


Tired body, Thriving heart

by wearingmywings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Falling In Love, Gardens & Gardening, Language of Flowers, M/M, Minor Injuries, mentions of abuse (John)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 00:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearingmywings/pseuds/wearingmywings
Summary: When Dean is given community service after stealing food, he is assigned to run errands for Castiel, a counselor who won't leave his home and will only speak to Dean through his front door. After several weeks of conversation, Castiel finally allows Dean inside, but he's reluctant to show his face. They quickly grow closer, finding trust and intimacy in each other as they spend time together in Castiel's garden. But just as they both think that their biggest hurdles are behind them, Dean's alcoholism threatens his livelihood and and his relationship with Cas.





	1. Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> This was my first ever DCBB, and I couldn't be more excited to finally post my story. I want to thank a few people briefly, feel free to skip this but please do pay attention to chapter notes.
> 
> First, I have to mention my friend, beta reader, helping hand and wonderful person [museaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museaway/pseuds/museaway). Without you, this story wouldn't be what it is today. Thank you for all your help and advice, I love you lots.
> 
> My artist [Taylor](https://destiel-love-forever.tumblr.com/) has been so kind and encouraging. She was wonderful to work with, truly inspired me to write the best I can, and gave me feedback whenever I needed it.
> 
> And, of course, my dear friends who are my family, I love you all so much. To Hannah, Saz, Jennifer, Caty, who have listened to me talk and complain and giggle about this story for seven months. To the rest of our groupchat who were nothing but supportive, to my twitter friends, I love you all so much. Thank you for your support.
> 
> The DCBB community is truly wonderful, supportive and lovely, and I'm so happy to be a part of it. 
> 
> Enjoy the story! <3
> 
> -Jana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAISY - Innocence; Loyal Love

“As mentioned earlier, every one of you will have their own task. We have assigned you to one after careful consideration, and you are to complete that task to your full capacity when you’re told to do so.”

The officer turned and looked directly at everyone. Dean kept thinking her weird glasses made her look like some sort of owl with serious eye issues.

“All of you are here because you broke the law,” the officer continued. “Some of you are first offenders. These programs were picked because they might be helping you make better decisions in the future.

“You are to write a report about your work. Minimum is 12,000 words, because whatever your task will end up being is _not _a short-term activity.” The woman let her eyes roam over the people in the room again. “And I expect the report on time and formatted correctly. I will now call your name and hand you the information regarding your task.”

Dean let himself sink even lower in his beat-up chair. He hated being in this room, hated the circumstances that brought him here. He disliked the others after speaking to them briefly in the beginning, and just hoped for a non-shitty program.

“Benny Lafitte, you’re going to help out at the soup kitchen at the homeless shelter. Any information you need for this will be in the envelope you’re all going to receive at the end of this. Abby will be joining the wildlife rescue group.” 

A loud groan could be heard from the red-haired bombshell next to Dean, and he smirked. As far as he knew, Abby was here for repeated shoplifting, creating six-figure damage. She also repeatedly cussed out workers and officers in a derogatory manner. Imagining this spoiled brat getting dirty in a forest was amusing.

He zoned out during the most of the announcements, fiddling with the hole in his jeans or fingering the table's scuffed corner. 

“And only one thing is left for Dean, which would be the Veterans Support Initiative.”

Dean tried to give the woman his best shit-eating grin as she slapped down an envelope with a logo that read ‘VSI’ in the middle on his desk. She ignored him and returned to the front of the room.

“Pay attention to when and where you have to be to complete your tasks. Missing a day unexcused automatically counts as a failed program and you will not have the chance to continue. You are hereby dismissed.”

Dean got up and shoved the envelope into his leather jacket’s pocket. On his way outside he dodged several wads of bubble gum on the floor and did his best to not look at anyone. He made his way across the parking lot, momentarily distracted by Abby driving by in a small red Porsche. 

Dean sat down in his beloved black car and rubbed dry eyes. A night of no sleep showed on his face, and he felt like shit. Giving into curiosity, however, he pulled out the envelope and opened it. The info letter read,

**VSI**

**Tasks include the following:**

**Be on time. Twice a week we meet at the community center in town. **

**Complete your individual task. Whether that is mowing a lawn or baking cookies for the next meet up, every task is important and to be completed.**

**If you cannot handle this for psychological reasons please bring a doctor’s note and we will find something else for you to do. We’re here to help veterans first.**

**See you on Thursday.**

Dean frowned and read the letter again. He imagined he’d get a little bit more info about what he’d actually be doing, but apparently not. With a frustrated huff he started the car, threw one last dirty look towards the rundown building he’d just left, and drove home.

~

The community center was a one-story building, painted gray with big windows and its own parking lot. Double doors led him into an airy and open room that had groups of round tables and fitting chairs. There were two televisions in the back corners with a sofa and two armchairs each grouped in front of each. Mismatched bookshelves held a variety of books (yes, really), board games, and DVDs. Countless plants in different pots sat in the room, some small and on a table, others big and green in a corner. It smelled like paper and something flowery that Dean couldn’t quite place. A cool breeze washed over him from one of the vents in the ceiling, cooling his skin from the late may heat. In short, the center looked nothing like Dean had imagined it. 

A side door opened and a middle-aged man stepped out. He saw Dean and came over to him. 

“You must be Dean,” the man said, and Dean automatically stood up straight and extended his hand. The man shook it with a firm grip and Dean nodded.

“Yes, sir,” Dean said.

“Air Force or Marines?” the man questioned and Dean couldn’t fight the raise of his eyebrows.

“Sorry?” Dean asked.

“Your posture and manners look like someone who learned military etiquette. Which branch?”

Dean swallowed and tried not to let his slight nervousness show, even though he could barely control the fidgeting of his hands. “Marines. My father, he was one,” he replied and the man gave him a short but not unfriendly nod.

“I’m Benedict Hillen, but you can call me Ben. And please don’t call me ‘sir,’ that just makes me feel old. I’ve lived here in Kansas my whole life, so I’ve known all the people here for decades.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ben.” 

“Likewise, Dean. Now let me explain a few things. I know why you’re here, but I’m not gonna treat you like an unruly child. You’re an adult and there’s a reason you did the things that landed you here. I asked for a report and background info, for safety purposes. As you’re very well aware, we work with veterans. I can’t afford to have a kid with anger issues. I trust you to not antagonize any of the people here. Follow me.” Ben started walking towards the right wall of the main room, which held another closed door. 

“The room we’re in is the main room of the center. We also call it living room or even home, if we’re feeling extra sensitive.” Ben grinned at Dean.

Ben opened the door and they stepped in a smaller room. It held a desk with two chairs and a computer, a phone and a couch in the back corner, together with small shelves and a coffee table, all containing pamphlets and info booklets about “PTSD: The invisible fight” to “Help for alcohol abuse, get it now.” 

“This is my office,” Ben said, plopped down on the office chair and gestured for Dean to take a seat. As he was sitting down, Dean noticed how nice everything looked. Even the office had a beautiful light green wall color. The window was freshly painted. There was still a bit of tape stuck on the windowsill that, too, held plants, this time an assortment of tiny cacti. Every piece of furniture matched in color. 

Ben clicked around on his computer before addressing Dean again.

“I’m gonna print out your schedule, together with your tasks and details. Your first few times here will consist of preparing the group hours. We meet every day for up to four hours. People can come and go as they want, and we do different things each weekday. You will come an hour before it starts, help clean and prepare the activities for that day, _participate_ in them and then help clean up afterwards. The vets we have here are often lonely. They don’t have partners because of issues they struggle with, and this is usually the only time they spend with other people.” 

The printer whirred to life and spit out Dean’s timetable. Ben dated it and then handed it over. 

“Once you’ve taken part in the activities a few times and everything’s gone well, we might move you to something different. There’s always plenty to do.” 

Dean nodded and skimmed the plan. He mostly saw the things Ben had mentioned, although one thing caught his attention.

“What does ‘Delivery to CN’ mean?”

Ben smiled and nodded. “A wife of one of our ‘Nam vets, Helen, always knits something, and she made it her task to knit Castiel something every week. That’s what CN stands for, Castiel Novak. He’s helped around here a lot, although he doesn’t show up here anymore ever since I took over most of the office stuff. He usually isn’t too keen on mingling with lots of people, so he stays home. Your task will be delivering him Helen’s weekly knitting product along with some mail. A lot of people are real thankful for what he helped create.”

Dean nodded and messily folded up the timetable. If he was honest, he wasn’t too happy to do house visits, but he didn’t really have the grounds to complain about it. At least not in his first week. 

*

Time spent at his apartment was pretty much never comfortable, or nice. An empty fridge was a staple of any Winchester home, along with an outdated kitchen with lime green cabinets, a third-hand couch with questionable stains and a cheap wooden bed frame holding a mattress so thin Dean woke up with a hurting back every other day. The part of town he lived in was generally considered cheap, unsafe and for the desperate. Even for his area, his apartment was lucky. He had a bedroom, a tiny bathroom and a small living room with an open kitchen. He usually just ate on the couch or standing up leaning against the counter, just like right now. Munching a bowl of off-brand cheerios with milk that was just this side of off. He polished off the bowl within five minutes, rinsed it and just left it in the sink. He put on his non-work boots and headed out.

The address that Ben gave him led Dean to the edge of town, known for smaller and older houses, large properties and quietness away from the bustle of the city’s inner circles. Ben’s messy handwriting directed Dean to a brick house, standing alone with a small front yard and a thick, high hedge wrapping around the property, shielding anything but the direct front of the house from street view. 

The small yard was bursting with plants. Flowers spilled from window sills and bonded together with small bushes to frame the narrow stone path and wooden stairs leading up to the porch and front door. 

A dark wooden fence wound around the front, meeting the hedge at the sides. Everything looked well loved and cared for, undoubtedly the work of a devoted gardener. Dean opened the little gate holding a light blue mailbox on one of its posts, stepped through and readjusted the box under his left arm. He carefully made his way across the yard, up the stairs and knocked on the heavy oak door. As he waited for a reply, he noticed more flowers: carefully trimmed roses sitting in huge pots all around the patio. The door had a smaller, well-concealed frame at its bottom, and Dean guessed it to be a cat flap. 

“Who is this?” a muffled voice came through the door, and Dean realized he was staring at a peephole.

“Hey! I’m uh, I’m Dean? I’m from the VSI?” Dean leaned a bit closer to the door.

“I don’t know you. If you’re from the VSI, where’s Ben?” 

“He couldn’t make it today,” Dean said and shifted the heavy box to his other arm. “He asked me to bring you everything, so I got letters and a couple of knitted things. From uh, Helen?” 

The man behind the door seemed to hesitate with his reply. “Please place the box in front of the cat door.” 

“Uh, can’t you just open the door?”

“No.”

“Why not? The box is pretty heavy, and I’m not even entirely sure if it would fit? So I could just—”

“I said no. Please put it down and leave.”

Dean contemplated for about half a second if it was worth pissing this dude off, but decided against it. He set the box down gingerly, then stepped back from the door.

“There you go. Have a nice day, I guess.” 

The voice was silent, so Dean furrowed his brows and made his way back to his car. 

Pretty weird, but alright, Dean thought. He was no stranger to distrusting others, but not even opening the door a small bit to talk? Pretty odd, but he was in no position to judge others, not with his background.

Although, maybe something was wrong with the man? Dean gnawed at his bottom lip while turning the conversation over. Maybe something happened, or he needed help. He decided to ask Ben about it the next time he had the opportunity. 

As he was driving home he suddenly remembered the state of his fridge, which had been sad and empty apart from a jar of mayonnaise and a half-finished beer when he had checked it in the morning. He took the next left turn and pulled into the grocery store parking lot.

*

Dean dodged a stray cat toy as he made his way up the stairs to Novak’s house. Today’s box was even bigger than the last one and he was sure some of the letters would be a bit crumpled because there were so many. He had no idea why the man got such a huge amount of mail several times a week, or why Helen apparently thought that she needed to make a new scarf every week. 

He rang the doorbell and played with a bit of fabric that was peeking out from below the box’s cover. After about a minute he could hear steps approaching the door before Novak said something.

“Where’s Ben?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m great, thanks for asking, just here to drop off your fan mail, don’t mind me.” 

“It’s not fan mail.” 

Dean could practically hear the scowl through the door.

“Sure, buddy,” he said and put the box down. His back ached from work and he leaned against the rough brick wall. “Is there a reason you don’t want to talk to me? I mean, no offense, but the fan mail you’re getting is probably not because of your warm personality.”

“I have no interest in letting strangers into my house, and even less to have them talk to me rudely. Please leave.” 

“And here I thought I had found my way to your heart at last. I’m sorry, I won’t bother you any more than necessary. Until next week.” Dean saluted the peephole and walked back towards his car. 

*

“Hey, Ben?”

Ben stopped trying to stuff a blanket into Novak’s box. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Novak?” 

Ben squinted at him. “What about Castiel?”

“Is he...well, he didn’t open the door when I was there, and he seemed uhm, upset? That you weren’t there instead of me.” Dean shifted from one foot to the other. “I was just wondering if he’s alright, or what’s—”

“Let me interrupt you there,” Ben said. “Castiel might seem weird; he can be unfriendly when he’s scared or surprised, but he’s good people. He went through a lot, and none of it is my place to tell you. He might never open the door and talk to you face to face, and that’s not an insult to you, that’s just...what he does. If that’s a problem—”

“No! No it’s not,” Dean hurried to say. “I really just wanted to ask if there’s something I need to know, like if he needs anything or something like that.”

Ben shot him a sceptical look, but his face softened at the genuine concern in Dean’s face. “I appreciate that you ask, but you can ask him all that yourself. I wouldn’t suggest doing it now, he barely knows you, but maybe someday.”

Dean nodded. He took the finished box from Ben and walked to his car, where he carefully deposited the box on the passenger seat. His eyes fell to his dashboard where a letter sat that had been staring at him since he put it there three days ago. He ignored it for now, and started the drive to Castiel.

Dean pulled up to the curb across from Castiel’s house and turned off the engine. Before he opened the door however, he grabbed the letter. It had his bank’s logo on it, so he dreaded opening it. He tore it open, unfolded the paper and skimmed over it. 

The bank oh so kindly informed him of their changed policies, that they required a new minimum balance to be kept in his account that he couldn’t uphold even in a good month, and threatened higher monthly charges. The twenty dollars he had been able to save for luxuries like fast food were gone now.

God fucking damn it. He had been doing so well with his budgeting. Sure, there wasn’t really room for eating out or doing a lot of stuff that cost money (he was by now very familiar with every park in a ten-mile radius), but he was fine. Now though, he had to find a solution. Cancel his phone? Drive the Impala less? He couldn’t cancel or limit his monthly payments to Sam; he’d promised and he intended to keep that promise.

A sudden pull of anger—at the bank, at the social system and overpriced gas as well as the local supermarket that had decided a loaf of his favorite bread would be $2 more—overcame him, and he felt his eyes starting to burn. Without a thought, he slammed his fist against the dashboard. Pain shot through his hand and lingered in his wrist. His knuckles throbbed and he gritted his teeth. 

One more problem I don’t need, he thought. Grimacing, he grabbed the box from the passenger seat and made his way to the house. He angrily wiped away a couple of tears that had dared to run down his face, leaving him red nosed and pretty obviously looking like he had just cried. 

He stomped up the stairs, dropped the box, and practically pounded on the front door. Muffled steps came closer, then stopped.

“Are you alright?” The voice sounded less gruff this time, still deep but softer, and concerned. Dean hated it.

“Fucking peachy. Here’s your shit, enjoy.” Dean turned to leave, ready to let this crappy day end.

“Wait! Stay. Do you, uhm, want to talk about it?” Castiel timidly offered.

“Why would I talk to a dude who’s never even bothered to open the door to fucking talk to me?” 

“Because sometimes we just need someone to talk to, Dean. It doesn’t really matter who, but I figured since I’m still basically a stranger, it would be easier. And, I promise I'm less of an assbutt than I've been the past times, and I'm sorry that I was rude to you. Ben had forgotten to let me know there would be a change in our usual routine, and I was caught off guard."

“Fuck,” Dean murmured and dropped down to sit on the porch, his back to the door and hugging his legs. 

“So, what’s—wait, give me a moment.” Footsteps shuffled away, then returned. Dean jolted from the sudden scratchy noise when the cat door was propped open with a book from the inside. 

“There we go. Sorry, it’s easier to talk like this. Please, I’m listening. Oh, do you want a pillow?” 

Dean swallowed, his throat scratchy and sore.

“Nah, I’m good. Uhm, I’m honestly not sure where to even start, man. Everything’s just kinda fucked.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face and let his head fall backwards, letting it hit the door with a thump.

“Is there a main thing that’s bothering you?” Dean heard fabric rustling, he turned his head and saw a smidge of black pajama pants peek through the cat flap. He didn't stop the softening of his own expression, this was the first time he’d ever seen anything of the man in person. It felt strangely intimate. 

“Money. It’s always money,” Dean said and Castiel huffed a quiet laugh. 

“The universal struggle of being human,” Castiel said and Dean hummed in agreement. 

Dean picked at the flowers in the big terracotta pot to his left, letting the soft white petals slip through his fingers.

“Why aren't you talking to me face to face? You know, whatever it is, I don't judge. I got enough baggage of my own to know what it feels like.” Dean shifted and his leg brushed the door. 

“I sincerely hope you don't know what it feels like. Please believe me when I tell you that it's not out of spite or being silly. There are only two people that really know, please don't take it personally.” Dean noticed his hand fumbling with a loose thread of his pants. 

His hand looked strong, tan with long fingers. Dean liked it. 

“Those two people being your parents?” Dean guessed. “Or your siblings? Do you have siblings?”

“My parents are dead, and so are my siblings. I had several, but we were estranged for large parts of my adult life. They were military and just disappeared one by one.”

“I'm sorry.” Dean turned sideways. He ran his fingers along the cool metal of the small pet door. 

“Thank you. And to answer your question fully, the two people are Ben and the man who brings me my groceries every week.”

Dean's heart constricted in his chest. Two people? Did that mean Castiel had no friends? He didn't want to poke further, so he decided on a different route. Castiel sounded sad, and Dean wanted to try and cheer him up after he had offered to listen to his stuff.

“What do you do?” Dean asked. 

“You mean my job? I work for a crisis hotline that specializes in children and teenagers in the LGBT community.”

“I meant your hobbies actually, but that's amazing, Cas!” Dean turned around fully so he was facing the door, an attempt in making it feel more like a normal conversation. “Are you too? Gay, I mean?”

Castiel didn't reply for a moment, and Dean was ready to backtrack when Castiel answered. 

“I never found a label to fit me perfectly, but I have been with both men and women. I do have a preference for men, however.” Castiel's voice had gotten quieter, a resigned note swinging in it. “I understand if you don't want to talk anymore. I have to get back to some chores anyway.”

Castiel started standing up, and without thinking Dean's hand shot out, and he reached through and grabbed Castiel's pant leg. 

“Please don't go,” Dean said. 

Castiel hesitated before sitting down again, mirroring Dean's position. They were now both sitting cross legged and facing each other.

“I said I don't judge, and I meant it.” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “I've had my fair share of one-night stands with people that were definitely not women,” he said, and couldn't believe his voluntary admission. He'd never told anyone before, but with Castiel it felt safe. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dean. You sound nervous, are you alright?”

Dean smiled to himself and nodded. “Yea. Thanks.” 

He saw Castiel wringing his hands in his lap. Dean didn't know him very well (yet, his brain added), but he could tell there was something there. Something Castiel wasn't telling him. Dean's best guess was that it had something to do with their current topic, and since he had spent his life being disapproved of by his dad, he wanted to offer any type of understanding or support he could.

Without thinking about it much, he shuffled closer to the door and reached out again, placing his hand palm up on the floor in front of Castiel.

“Thank you for telling _me_.” He tried to put as much understanding and calmness in his voice as he could. He let his hand rest in its position, waiting for a reaction. 

Slowly, Castiel moved his right hand towards his, letting it hover for a moment before placing it on Dean's. Dean clasped their hands together and held on tight. 

“If you need to talk about anything, ever, I'm here,” Dean said and squeezed Castiel's hand, and Castiel squeezed right back. 

*

Dean knocked for the third time, worried. It was the same time as his usual deliveries, but Cas just wasn't opening the door. Dean had been a bit nervous to come back after their heart to heart last time, and this wasn't helping much. He seriously considered dropping the box and leaving. 

However, a sudden noise broke him out of his thoughts, then a thunk and a groan. 

“Cas? You there?” 

After a minute the cat door was held open by a hand, and a yellow post-it was stuck to the frame of it. Dean bent down to read it. 

‘I have a cold and lost my voice. I'm afraid I won't be a good conversational partner today. :(‘

Dean snorted at the poorly drawn smiley face. 

“Sorry to hear you're sick, Cas,” he said, and the hand gave him a thumbs up. Dean grinned and set down the box. “You got a pen?”

Another thumbs up and Cas disappeared for a few seconds, before a pen with a faded “Bee positive!” on the side appeared. Dean took it and the post-it, quickly writing down his cell number. He gave both back and Cas, sitting cross legged on the other side of the door, took them carefully. 

Dean could practically hear the question mark as Cas looked at the post-it, and he remembered what he had brought with him. 

He opened the box and took the tiny carton on top, then held it towards Cas. 

“This is for you.” Dean nervously watched Cas’s fingers wrap around it. The carton was a nondescript light brown, and Cas opened it.

Snug at the very top were two packets of flower seeds, ‘Summer party’ and ‘Butterfly paradise’. Dean knew nothing about plants and had grabbed the first two that looked nice; the only thing he knew being that Cas really enjoyed flowers and gardening, at least from the way his front yard looked. 

Cas set the seed packets aside, grabbing a colorful card, and lastly the single condom packet at the bottom. 

Dean immediately turned beet red; the design had seemed funny in the store (bright yellow with a text reading ‘save a lollipop, suck a dick’), but now he wondered if he was grossly overstepping.

“It, uhm, I thought it looked funny,” Dean stammered as Cas turned the condom around. 

“Uh, sorry.”

A rough laugh floated through and Dean perked up at hearing it.. Did he just make Cas laugh? 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas rasped and Dean had trouble understanding him. That dude really had a nasty cold. 

“Read the card,” Dean said and Cas picked it up. He opened it, flipping the rainbow-colored front to read the writing on the inside, framed by hastily drawn shitty little flowers and crooked rainbows.

**Don’t ever be afraid to show your true colors. **

Dean sat down, waiting anxiously for a reply. It had seemed like a nice idea when he’d been at the store, but now, in person, he wasn't so sure about them anymore. 

Cas closed the card, and put it down next to the other things Dean had gotten him. 

Then he lifted his hand and placed it on his heart, and Dean didn't need him to say anything to understand. He mirrored the gesture, feeling his own rapidly beating heart under his fingertips. 

“I'm glad you like it. The lady at the grocery store told me that those seed packets are pretty generic, so I figured they'd be nice. Since you like plants.” He gestured towards the flowers behind him. “I wrote down my number just in case you need anything.” Dean took his phone out and opened his text messages. “You can just text me whenever you want though,” he added and saw Cas picking up his phone too, typing something. “If you just want to text, or want me to come over to chat.”

Cas stopped typing, and Dean could see him tense up.

“I'd obviously still just sit here,” Dean hurried to add. “I don't mind it, and I'm not gonna push you or anything. I want to be your friend, and I'm gonna respect your boundaries.”

A few seconds later his phone vibrated, and he had a new text from an unsaved number. 

_Hello, Dean. _

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said and that throaty laugh was back. He saved Cas’s number, adding a small flower and bee emoji to it. He looked at his watch and sighed. 

“I have to get going, but I hope you get well soon. And tell me if you plant those flowers. I want pics.” 

And if Dean came back in the evening to leave a takeout bag with a container of steaming chicken soup and three small rolls on Cas’s porch, well, that was nobody's business but theirs. 

. 

Dean plopped down on his worn couch, takeout container in one hand and his phone in the other. He had been texting with Cas for the past couple of days, talking about nothing important, but loving the details about the man he was coming to know. 

After three days, he now knew that Cas enjoyed classical music, reading (especially poetry), and that his cat with dark brown fur was named Hannah. 

**sorry for the delay, had to drive home **

_No problem. I'm happy to wait if that means you're driving safely. _

**i always do, cas ;) **

**what are u up to? **

_I just gave Hannah her dinner, now I'm waiting for mine to heat up. _

**oh, what are u having? **

_Chicken noodle soup. I ordered from the place that the food on my porch was from. Thank you for that, in case I haven't said it yet. _

Dean grinned at the reply. He hadn’t told Cas what he did, but he also didn’t try to be secretive about it.

**how'd u know that was me? could've been anyone. and good pick, that place is great. **

_You were the only one who knew I was sick and had my address. _

**u got me. hope it helped.**

_It definitely did. Thank you for caring._

**always, cas. **

**can I ask u something? **

_go ahead._

**since bringing u ur stuff is part of my work with the VSI, are u a vet? Ben only said u helped set the place up and all the folks writing you were real thankful for it, but he didn’t tell me more. **

_I'm not. _

**oh, okay. sorry if it’s too personal or anything. sometimes i don’t know when i’m overstepping**

Dean stuffed his mouth full with the last couple of bites, got up and threw away the greasy box. He checked his phone, but no reply from Cas yet. He worried he had overstepped, but trusted that Cas would let him know if he did. 

He washed the piled up dishes, wiped down the kitchen and worked on removing the tomato sauce that had splattered against the tiles when a sauce overcooked days ago. After all that, he looked at his phone again and finally had a text. 

_on channel four is a very interesting documentary about the impact of bees in our environment. I have seen this one before, so I recommend it. _

Dean took the change of topics in stride. Yes, he did want to know more about Cas, but he had been serious when he told Cas he'd respect his boundaries. So if bees was the new topic, then bees it is.

**didn't think I'd spend my Friday evening watching a nature doc instead of star wars, but here we are. Should I make popcorn and get some tissues, or is it pretty tame? **

Cas’s reply came immediately. 

_you can see a bee die around halfway in because it stings one of the reporters. I think they haven't been informed properly about how to treat the insects. Apart from that, it's child friendly. :)_

Dean snorted and sent a pic of him lounging on his couch, the greasy napkin from his dinner pressed to his face, acting horrified. 

Cas sent back a photo, and Dean's heartbeat rapidly increased. Had Cas sent him a picture of himself? 

He opened it, and the picture showed Cas from the neck down, wearing light blue pajamas. He had placed his hand on his heart, mirroring Dean’s position of horror. It didn’t take Dean long though to let his eyes wander to the rest of the picture, and his throat went dry.

The couch was a dark brown leather, and a dark green blanket was bunched around Cas’s hips. It looked soft, as did his shirt, showing loose threads at one sleeve. Dean couldn't help but notice, however, how the shirt stretched over Cas’s chest, struggled to hug his muscular arms, and fell loosely over his slightly more narrow hips. 

This man was a fucking brick house, broad and muscular, but knowing him softened the hard lines that made him even more attractive. Imagining those sinewy forearms lovingly petting his cat, the strong big hands caring to his garden, Dean wished he knew what Cas’s face looked like, just to complete the picture. 

Because without seeing his face, it felt a little ridiculous how he _felt_ about Cas. Already, after only a month and a handful of times talking to him. 

Dean shoved it aside. Cas didn't need him to drool all over him. It was clear that Cas needed a friend, and Dean wanted to be that for him. If something else came of it in the future he wouldn't complain, but right now earning his trust was more important. 

He wanted Cas to be able to be himself when they talked, since Dean knew the feeling of hiding and pretending painfully well. He was alone too, and he understood pushing people away. Maybe he'd tell Cas about it some day, and maybe Cas would tell him his story too. 

*

“So, does your garden look like your front yard?” Dean chewed on the half-melted Snickers he’d found in his jeans pocket. The patio was warm through his pants, hot from the morning sun that had now wandered and was blocked by the roof. He had come to Cas’s straight from work, starved from missing breakfast and eight hours of physical labor. If you had no money for groceries, breakfast wasn't on the schedule. 

“I like to think it looks better,” Cas said and Dean could hear the smile in his answer. They had assumed their usual positions, Hannah’s door propped open for them to talk more comfortably. 

Before Dean could reply, his stomach growled. Loudly. 

“Did you not have lunch? Are you hungry?” Concern filled Cas’s voice now, and Dean felt warmth creep up his neck and cheeks at the care that Cas showed for him.

“Ah, no. I was late for work so I didn't have breakfast.” Dean was about to lie, but thought better of it. He didn't want to lie to Cas. “I had no time for lunch either. I worked through the hour because I really need the money.”

Cas hummed in reply and got up. He hesitated, not stepping away from the door. His socked feet stood very still.

“Do you want to... My garden. Do you want to see it?” 

Dean blinked. He knew how much Cas’s garden meant to him, and couldn’t believe he was being invited.

Dean smiled to himself and nodded. 

“I'd love to.”

“I'll unlock the gate. I'll come back here to tell you when you can come in. I'll wait at the back door.”

Cas walked away from the door, and Dean waited. He heard a soft creak somewhere to his right, then Cas came back to the door. 

“It's open,” he said and his voice was shaky.

“I'll meet you on the other side.” Dean got up and stretched while Cas removed the ruler used to prop the cat door open. It fell shut as Dean climbed down the porch stairs and made his way to the thick, high hedge on the right side of the house. A tall metal gate, partially obscured by the plants around it, greeted him as he came closer. A sticker on the corner warned about the alarm system, and Dean shook his head. It was so _Cas _to have an alarm system for your fucking garden gate. 

He opened it with a creak, stepped through, and immediately closed it behind himself. He turned around and his mouth fell open. 

The part of the garden he had just stepped into was similar to the front yard, but even more beautiful. A small path made from cobblestone wound its way through the thriving plants, green everywhere around him. Bursts of pink, yellow and blue were revealed with every breeze; the amount of beautiful flowers surpassed Dean's imagination. He walked along the path slowly, letting his hands touch the plants he passed, feeling their soft leaves and making sure to only graze the petals.

The density of plants grew less until he stepped on grass. It was longer than a lawn, and daisies blinked at him every few steps. It smelled like earth, like roses and nature, and Dean loved the feeling of calm he felt wash over him. He had never been in a garden like this; the parks in the city were sparsely planted and always showed a severe lack of love and creativity.

He turned to his left. The back porch looked nothing like the front. An outdoor sofa with six pillows sat in the middle next to the door. Fairy lights wound around the pergola, following the two wooden pillars at the corners and disappeared between flower pots. There was the soft noise of a pond or something similar, but Dean couldn't find the source. 

The door opened, and Dean's brain immediately went into overdrive. Would he finally see Cas? 

His excitement was short lived, because the screen door hadn't opened. Cas would stay inside. 

Dean walked up the stairs until he reached the door. It was dark in the house, and so he could see only Cas’s silhouette, not his face. His feet were the closest to the door, and Dean spotted a tiny hole in one of his socks. 

“Cas this is—” Dean interrupted himself. Nothing that came to mind could describe what Cas had created. 

“It's so beautiful.” Dean let his eyes roam over the garden. There was an old tree in the back left corner, and the sides and back were protected by the tall hedge. 

“Thank you,” Cas said quietly. 

Dean pulled his phone and wallet from his back pockets and dropped down in front of the screen door. He gestured to the mountain of pillows on the chair to his right. 

“Can I use one of those? Wood isn't the most comfortable thing to sit on for a while.”

“Of course. Please use the darker ones; it's easier to wash them if they get dirty.”

Dean's hand froze on its way, and he swallowed. “Ah, yeah, I didn't shower after work. Sorry, I'll be fine without.”

“No! Dean, I just meant soil or other dirt. Garden-related dirt.” Dean could see him shake his head. “I don't care that you came straight from the garage. On the contrary,” Cas added and Dean smiled. He grabbed a dark blue pillow and sat back down. 

“Dude, sit,” Dean said and stared up at Cas. Again, Cas shook his head. 

“I have leftovers from my lunch. If you're hungry, I'd like to offer them to you. I'm not particularly hungry today.”

“Cas...” Dean was about to decline when, again, his stomach rumbled. He sighed. “Only if you're sure, though.”

“Absolutely. Do you have any dietary restrictions? Are you vegetarian or vegan?”

Dean shook his head no and laughed. “No, I'm good with anything. I do love meat though,” he added and Cas hummed. 

“I think you'll like it then. I'll be right back.” 

Dean threaded his fingers through the leaves of a small blooming bush in a weathered terracotta pot next to him. This was really a remarkable place, a sanctuary in every meaning of the word. He felt disconnected from the outside world, as if the lush plants could protect him from all of his worries.

Cas returned a minute later. He stopped before the door and seemed unsure.

“Can you close your eyes?” 

Dean nodded and did as Cas asked. He heard the screen door open, then a plate being set down on the wood. The clank of cutlery, the dull sound of a full glass placed on a hard surface. Again, the door sliding and the rustle of clothes. 

“Open them,” Cas said and Dean did. Cas had sat down behind the door, but close enough that Dean could make out the details of his soft jogging pants, the flyaway hairs on Cas’s head illuminated from behind. 

He focused his attention on the food, and was thrilled to find a generous piece of medium-rare steak with potatoes and baby carrots. The glass held orange juice, and after taking a sip he was sure it was freshly pressed. The first bite of buttery-soft meat had him moaning like a two-dollar whore, and he grinned around his fork when he heard Cas cough. 

“This is amazing,” Dean mumbled. “Is there anything you can't do?”

Cas laughed softly. “I assure you, my skills are limited. I had to practice a lot to be able to cook in a manner that wouldn't burn everything. It was a challenge,” he said while Dean started laughing. 

“Thank you for showing me your garden, by the way.” Dean shoveled the potatoes into his mouth, their earthy flavor complemented by herbs he didn't even recognize. 

“I was afraid to, but I'm glad I did. I trust you,” Cas added and Dean felt warmth flooding his chest. 

“I trust you too.” Dean licked melted butter from his lips after the last bite of steak. He drained the glass of juice and pushed everything to the side. 

*

The day had come. The anniversary of the day his dad had died in the car crash, almost two years after Sam had left for California.

Dean woke up with a bottomless pit replacing his stomach, and for a couple of blessed seconds he couldn't remember why. Texting with Cas until the early hours of the morning had left him tired and disoriented, but checking his phone for the time sent reality crashing down on him. 

Guilt, hot and searing, raced through his chest. How could he have let himself forget the day that changed his life the most, even more than his father passing away? 

Dean didn't want to get up. Getting up meant facing the day, starting it, and if he never got out of bed the day wouldn't really start, would it? Even though it was past noon, his shift being the evening one that ended after eight pm.

The insistent beeping of his alarm reminded him that he, in fact, had responsibilities. Not showing up to work would prove him to be exactly the careless asshole his dad had painted him to be. 

Twenty-something years of fault, inferiority, and loneliness dragged heavily behind him as he made his way to work. He felt the fatigue down to his bones.

He went through his duties mechanically, not listening to anyone or looking at anything while fixing a blown tire. He spaced out when working on the brakes, and came to when he pressed the pedal so hard the car jumped. 

A cloud settled over his head, muffling everything and separating him from his surroundings. My brain isn’t working, he thinks. He’d gone to a therapist, once, many years ago. Sam had suggested it, his skinny fingers holding a pamphlet from his university's health department. The man hadn't been trying to force him to open up with fake understanding, but patiently explained what he thought Dean was struggling with, and how he could help. He had given him a new appointment, a smiley sticker, and a pat on the shoulder. 

Dean hadn’t gone back. 

A shout tore him out of his memories, Someone pushed him out of the way and he numbly watched the car he had just propped up crash back down. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Dean? You could be dead!” Tim shouted, pointing to the car and back to him. 

I could be dead, Dean thinks. It was close, very close, judging by his colleague’s reaction. 

He felt the fog around his head tighten and close in, drowning him in bad thoughts and worse memories. The absolute absence of caring came as a surprise to him, and yet it didn't. 

The one thing he could focus on throughout the suffocating feeling was Cas. Dean was supposed to visit him tomorrow. He had planned a phone date for them. He’d promised Cas. 

Dean held onto this, trying to navigate out of the gloom. His head felt a bit clearer, and he let his arm sink back to his side. Tim was crouching next to him, concern written clearly on his face. 

“You okay?” 

“No,” Dean said and surprised himself with his honesty. “I need to go home. I need to go to a friend’s.”

“Okay, Dean, but you can't drive like this.” Tim got up and extended his hand. “I'll drive you.”

Dean let himself be led to a car. He took comfort in the smooth leather seats, the deep rumble of the engine. 

They were about four blocks away from Cas’s house when an idea came to him. 

“You can drop me off at the next light.”

Tim threw him a sceptical look, but turned on the blinker and pulled into an empty parking spot. 

“You sure you're gonna be okay? Should I bring you to a hospital instead? You were really out of it back there.”

Dean did his best to put the mask on, to cement his features into someone that people would trust and take seriously. He nodded. 

“I'll be okay. Thanks.” He got out of the car and walked until he saw Tim's car pass by him and turn at the next corner. 

He turned onto a side street and found exactly what he was looking for, a small family owned liquor store. Basically what he needed right now. 

. 

“Caaaaas,” Dean drawled, knocking again. Surely Cas was home, but why wasn’t he opening the door? 

He took another swig of the now half-empty cheap liquor, grimacing as it burned his throat. 

He saw a woman walking her small dog past the house, who promptly sped up upon seeing him.

What a sight he must be. There was still grease from the garage all over his hands and face. Tim's side mirror had revealed his eyes to be red and slightly swollen. There was a tear in his pullover, right near the neck hole, that kept getting bigger even though Dean had tried to curse it into not doing that. 

“Fuck this,” he murmured, took another drink and stumbled his way towards the gate. He found it unlocked, which surprised him, and he entered the garden. He made sure to close and latch the gate from the inside before walking towards the back porch. 

The lush plants greeted him with their soothing dark-green leaves, the bright flower petals waving at him in the slight breeze. 

As he was making his way to the back door, he saw light in one of the upstairs windows that faced the garden. So Cas was home after all. Did he not hear him? 

Or was he tired of him? 

Dean would get it, though. He'd probably be tired of himself too. 

He plopped down on the worn wood planks, right in front of the door. Bottle pushed to the side, he felt numb and had knit himself a flimsy safety net. He had meant for it to be a bridge until he could talk to Cas, but that plan had failed. 

If he was honest with himself, being in his garden felt like a blanket. In here, he couldn't hear anything but leaves rustling and rippling from the small pond in the back. A bumblebee sailing past his face to land on the roses next to the porch that were blooming so wildly their petals were caressing the wooden floor. 

“I could have died today,” he said to himself and was promptly pulled into an abyss of bad memories. The pain of his father’s abuse and the searing-hot anger about his own failures grabbed onto him with crooked fingers, holding on tight. 

Nausea punched him, and he could do little but lean to the side and try not to be sick all over himself. 

Guilt and horror flooded his mind. He was bringing all this into Cas’s safe haven, unasked, unpromoted and without permission. A tear leaked from his eye, then another and another, dripping onto his grease-smeared hands. Soon his shoulders shook with the overload of emotions. He had nowhere to put them and so he held on tight through the tidal wave that crashed into him. 

He leaned forward, dropped onto his elbows, then let himself tilt to the side and ended up lying down, facing the door. His nose was running but he was too exhausted to wipe it away. 

He fell asleep, drifting off and, ignoring his usual lack of faith, sending a small prayer to whoever was listening for a peaceful sleep. 

He woke up a little at some point, could feel gentle fingers on his shoulder, a soft weight enveloping his body. 

Warm wetness left his face damp in the night breeze. Someone lifted his head and soothing, cool liquid filled his mouth. He swallowed it obediently. A soft, deep, familiar voice said, “Oh, Dean.”

. 

Dean woke to sunlight warming his back, a painful wrist, and a fuzzy feeling in his mouth. Within a few seconds the pounding in his head tore him out of the last remnants of sleepiness, and his stomach felt cramped.

He opened his eyes with monumental effort and found himself confused for a moment before he remembered where he was. 

He remembered work, he remembered drinking in front of a closed door. But the rest was new. 

There was a pillow under his head and a heavy knit blanket thrown over his body, bunched up under his chin. He rubbed his eyes and noticed the tall glass of water next to the now-open porch door. He reached for the glass and gulped it down greedily, while letting his eyes roam over his surroundings. 

He was absolutely sure he’d thrown up on the spot right beside the pot with the pink roses, but there was nothing there. His hands were clean, and when he touched his face his fingers didn't come back smeared with black grease. 

It must have been Cas. Speaking of, he thought and peered into the house through the screen. 

“Cas? Are you there?” Dean's voice sounded as wrecked as he felt, and he forced himself to cough a couple of times. “Cas?”

“I'm coming,” came the reply and Dean relaxed marginally. A couple seconds later he could hear bare feet approaching on the tiled floor. The door must lead into the kitchen. 

The lighting was still shit. It was dark since the sun couldn't reach him with the heavy roof that loomed over the porch. He could barely see inside the house, but he did notice when Cas was standing right at the door. 

“Dean.” 

Cas sounded so relieved and happy that Dean wanted to cry. 

“How are you? Are you alright?” Cas squatted down and Dean imagined that he was ready to jump up and hug him if he asked for it. 

“I'm okay,” he heard himself say and winced. 

“What happened?”

“I had a shit day and I didn't know what to do or where to go. I'm sorry.” 

“Oh, Dean. I'm sorry. Did you knock?” 

At Dean's nod, Cas sighed. 

“I apologize. I tend to read in the evenings and often have headphones in, I didn't hear anything. I would've been there for you if I had known. Why didn't you text me?”

“Umm,” Dean replied intelligently and reached into his pocket. His phone was dead. “Guess I didn't charge it.”

Cas huffed. “Well, next time please do. I'm here if you need me, but I need to know if you do. Otherwise I can't help you.”

“I didn't know what I was doing until I basically showed up here.” Dean sat up properly, gritting his teeth against the headache. “Something happened at work and I went into panic mode. Guess the only thing my brain came up with was you.”

Cas was silent for a moment. Dean was about to regret his choice of words when Cas spoke again.

“I'm truly sorry to hear that. I wish I had been there for you when you arrived. I found you when I was feeding Hannah before going to sleep, and you scared me. No, don't—” he waved his hand as Dean's face fell. “I wasn't scared _of_ you, I was scared _for_ you. I didn't know what was wrong, and basically found you passed out on my porch at night. I tried to take care of you as best as I could, but it was difficult.”

Dean could hear the smile in Cas’s voice. 

“I cleaned up your face and hands, brought you the blanket and pillow and made you drink some water. I tried to get you inside before that, but you were very stubborn and I didn't want to accidentally hurt you. I wasn’t sure if you needed to go to the hospital, but from the vomit I figured you’d be okay, and you reacted when I pinched your arm.”

“Hold up,” Dean said and leaned forward. “Inside?” 

“Yes. Your health is more important, even if I wouldn’t have been ready for you to see me under normal circumstances.”

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to put you in that position.” Dean stared at a loose thread in the blanket on his lap as guilt crept in from all sides. 

“But you didn't,” Cas said and Dean stilled at the sincerity of the reply. "You're my friend, and I wanted to help you in whatever way I could. I still do. Please don't feel bad for any of this.”

Warmth spread through Dean's chest and he felt it climb up onto his face. Cas cared about him. _Cas_ _cared_ about him. 

Dean couldn't fight the smile stealing its way onto his lips, and he hoped Cas could see him well enough to recognize it for what it was; a thank you, an 'I care about you too.' 

He had always been bad at using words, and still was, so he did the next best thing. He reached out to Cas, like he had one of the first times they'd spoken. 

This time, though, it was more than a simple act of empathy. It was care, thankfulness, adoration. Cas's hand met him halfway, and they laced their fingers together. The immediate show of trust and support encouraged him to try and put into words what had happened the day before.

"I didn't pay enough attention while I was working on a car. I fucked up the safety and it almost came crashing down on me. Only reason I'm not mush right now is because someone pushed me out of the way." 

Dean felt Cas grip his hand more tightly, almost painfully. 

"I'm okay now. Or, at least physically. I don't really know what went wrong in my head, but I'll try and be more careful. I promise." Dean said squeezed Cas's hand quickly. "I'll be more careful. Tim, that's the one that saved my ass, he offered to drive me home but I didn't want to go. Home is a shitty, empty apartment in the bad part of town." 

Dean felt tears burn in his eyes, and he blinked them away. He exhaled shakily.

"I gave him your address. I didn't want to go home because there's nothing there, but when I come here... I feel safer. Not safe, because I'm not sure that's even possible, but safer. You're really fucking important to me, and I wanted you to know that even though it scares the shit out of me."

Dean looked down. He felt raw and laid open, terrified of the answer. But as per usual, Cas didn't let him go. He held on tighter. 

"Thank you for telling me. I feel the same way about you. Every day you come here and talk to me has been a good day, and I selfishly wish you'd be here even more often." Cas laid his other hand on top of their joined ones.

"I hope I don't overstep asking this, but do you not have anyone to talk to besides me?” Cas’s tone was careful. “Family? Not that I mind you talking to me, quite the contrary." 

"Not really. My mom died when I was a kid. My dad died in a car crash a couple years ago, and my baby brother is away at college. We're not really close. Not anymore." 

"I'm sorry you lost your parents, Dean. Where does your brother go to college, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"California. He's at Stanford, full ride and all. That kid's crazy smart, and I'm fucking proud of him. I just wish..." Dean interrupted himself to rub his eyes."Just wish he'd call, you know. I spent so much of my life taking care of him. Our dad was gone a lot and he pretty much only had me. He bailed as soon as he could to get far away from his disappointment of a family, and I get it. But that doesn't mean it didn't break my fucking heart. Now he calls for the big holidays, but he forgot my birthday this year. Not like I'm a child or whatever, but man." 

Dean paused and tried to sort his thoughts, somewhat surprised by himself about how much he was telling Cas. 

"Sorry. Not used to telling my sob story. Basically, my only family is Sam. We lost pretty much everyone else that was family once. I'm tired of being alone" Dean choked out and shuffled a bit closer to him. 

Cas let go of his hand. "Close your eyes." 

Dean did, and immediately felt Cas's hands on his shoulders, pulling him in. He let himself be moved, ending with his head on Cas's shoulder, his arms around his waist and Cas holding onto him, softly stroking over the back of his head. 

"Never apologize for telling me things about yourself. Thank you for trusting me with all of it." Cas paused with his hand at the nape of Dean's neck when Dean let out a sob. He buried his face deeper into Cas's shoulder, smelling laundry detergent and soap and the warm, comforting scent of Cas’s skin.

Cas hugged him tighter and resumed stroking his back. After a moment, he spoke again. 

"It's a lot to carry by yourself. Let me help, please. I can carry it. I will, if you let me." 

Dean felt Cas's warm breath ghost over his hair, and he grimaced at the tear tracks on his face. Then, he gave a quick laugh. 

"You just reminded me of an old family friend. He used to say 'family don't end with blood.'" Dean raised his hand to wipe at his eyes when memories of Bobby and childhoods spent running around in the simmering heat of his salvage yard came to him, but he didn't leave the embrace. 

Cas hummed in response. "He sounds like a very intelligent man. I fully agree with him." 

Dean exhaled slowly before sitting back a bit, eyes still closed and face pointed down. His hands rested on Cas's waist, while Cas’s were on his hip and his shoulder. 

"Thank you. I don't really talk about things. I'm more the 'ignore it until you start screaming' kind of guy. Telling you all of this is, uh, kind of a big deal for me." 

"I'm glad you trust me enough to change your frankly unhealthy habits," Cas replied and Dean laughed. 

"Won't disagree with you there, dude."

"Come here," Cas said and pulled Dean forward slightly until their heads met and their foreheads rested against each other. 

Dean could almost taste Cas's breath on his lips, and he suppressed a shudder at the feeling. He concentrated fully on the physical sensations of being close to Cas, the birdsong all around him, and the pond's tranquilizing splashing. 

Their serene moment was interrupted by Dean's stomach growling. Loudly. 

Cas laughed and so did Dean, and they sat there on Cas's porch, half hugging, Dean with his eyes closed, laughing together like idiots. 

"I'll make us breakfast if you don't mind eating on the patio?"

Dean shook his head and sat back, releasing Cas so the man could get up. "I don't mind. Thanks." 

He heard Cas stand up and step back, and deemed it safe to open his eyes.

He sat cross-legged with the blanket still around him, watching a bee buzz from flower to flower next to him, while he could hear Cas rummage around in the kitchen. 

As twenty minutes later a big plate with a huge stack of pancakes, drenched in syrup and bacon, with two forks, appeared in front of him, Dean felt a small butterfly come to life in his stomach.

. 

**dude look how messy this car is**

***picture attached***

_That is.. Impressive. Considering the weird items I'd guess that car belongs to a mid twenties woman? _

**lol no **

**it's an old as fuck dude, and he's creepy too**

**speaking of old dudes, do you know a Martin? From the vsi? **

_I do, why? _

**yesterday at the community hours he didn't stop hitting on me **

_Ah yes, that sounds like him. Did you tell him to leave you alone? He's usually quite respectful if you tell him something's wrong. _

**i did but not clear enough I guess? Didn't want to be rude **

_He told me he had a crush on me once. Or, I figured it out after the eighth letter he sent me. _

**doesn't surprise me he tried to hit on u :)) **

_Why?_

**u fishing for compliments?? u know why dude**

**ur cute, ur interesting and generally pretty great. So yeah really not surprising**

_:) _

*

Dean scratched a particularly nasty mosquito bite (a perk of spending so much time in Cas's garden) and waited for the porch door to open. He felt practically giddy with excitement to see Cas again; last week, Ben had taken to delivering Cas's box since he had to talk to him, and Dean hadn’t had any time for a visit since then. 

The door opened with a familiar creak, and the butterflies burst to life. 

"Hello, Dean." Cas sat down across him as always, but now close enough to touch with the screen door open. Dean could make out more of his head and shoulders, but the features of his face still unclear. 

"Hey, Cas. You okay?" 

"I'm well, thank you. How about you, how have you been?"

"Ah, I'm alright. Work's been a pain in the ass, since Tim won't leave me alone except to go take a damn bathroom break. He's been mother-henning me since last month and it's getting annoying." Dean played with a loose screw in the floorboard next to him, trying to push it back down but failing ultimately.

"I'm sure he's only doing it because he cares about you. He wants you to be safe," Cas said and Dean scoffed at that. 

"I'm 26, I don't need a goddamn babysitter at my job. I know I was an idiot, but me promising to be more careful after one fuck up in six years isn't enough apparently. I mean, I'm thankful he wants to help but it's doing more bad than good right now."

"Did you try and tell him that?" 

"Not- not really? I don't want to be rude or ungrateful." 

"Then he can't know that it's not entirely beneficial to you. Try and talk to him, and tell him that you appreciate his efforts, but maybe you two could work out something else together." 

"I should probably try that, yeah."

Cas seemed to be hunched into himself far more than usual, and Dean noticed. 

"You sure you're okay?" 

"I, yes. There's just something. I wasn't sure how to bring it up."

Dean reached for Cas's hand, and they let their fingers intertwine like it was the most natural thing in the world. He heard Cas take a deep breath before he spoke again. 

"I...a date?"

Dean laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, what?" 

"A date. You, and me?"

"Has the brilliant Castiel forgotten the ability to speak in full sentences?" Dean teased and felt Cas tense up. "I'd love to go on a date with you. There's absolutely no doubt about it, but how do you want to do it?" 

Dean thought about it for a moment. "Do you want to dress up and sit here and maybe I could bring my really shit laptop and we could eat and watch a movie? Cuddle in the dark, all that?" Dean tightened his hold on Cas's hand, who squeezed back.

"For reference, I'm smiling right now," Cas said and Dean grinned. 

"I know," Dean said, "I can hear it in your voice."

"Oh. Well, I actually had something similar to your suggestion in mind. If that's okay? We can use my laptop, it's quite new and I have the Netflix." 

Dean laughed at that. "It's just Netflix, Cas. And okay, yes, we can do that. When? I'm free tomorrow or Friday."

"Friday would be best. I have a night shift tomorrow, so that would work quite well."

"Sure thing, want me to bring anything?" Dean hoped his excitement was reflected in his voice.

"No but, one thing. Dean, you still haven't seen me. What if—" 

"I'm gonna be rude and stop you right there, buddy. I don't give a rat’s ass what you look like, alright?" 

"Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I mean it. No shits given. I like you for you, not because of your cute nose or whatever. So yeah, I don't care. White wine or red?" 

Dean could see Cas shake his head in return, and couldn't help but grin.

"White. And Ben told me once that my nose is indeed cute; however, I'm not entirely sure if it was a joke."

"Can't believe Ben gets to look at you, unbelievable. Guess I have to up my game." 

Dean hesitated, before asking something that had been on his mind for a while. "Hey, uh, you know I'm doing my community service hours with the VSI, right?" 

"Yes?" Cas sounded a bit perplexed by the topic change. 

"Like, I committed a crime. Which is how I even met you. Do you not want to know what it was? What if I was dangerous?" 

Cas held up a hand. "I'm aware, Dean, yes. But I also know that only non-violent or first offender crimes give you community service, so it was clear to me you weren't dangerous. Also, Ben would've never let you come to my house if he saw you as a threat in any way."

"So, you know what I did?" 

"I do not," Cas said and shook his head. "Ben knows, of course, and he told me it had nothing to do with violence or malice, and that it's your first offense. If you want to tell me, you can, but I don't particularly care for details. People make mistakes, are forced in bad situations, and you're too intelligent to not learn from whatever has gotten you here."

"Okay." Dean took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Not gonna lie, I was a bit worried if you'd still want that date, but I should've known that you would know at least something." 

"There's no reason to worry. I'd love to have that date with you."

Dean grinned and got up. "Right back at you. I have to get some stuff done today, so I'm gonna have to leave now, but I'm really looking forward to Friday. And white wine has been noted. Text me if you think of anything else." 

Cas stood up too and nodded. "I will. Have a safe drive, Dean."

Dean mock saluted in response, and started heading down the stairs. He had to stop to pet Hannah when she wound herself around his legs, and made a mental note to wash his hands ASAP when he was home. Cat allergies were no joke. 


	2. Gloxinia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GLOXINIA - Love at First Sight.
> 
> There are things in this chapter that are not tagged (there are NO untagged archive warnings in this fic), if things regarding to referenced homophobia (no slurs) are an issue for you, skip to the bottom to find more info there. :)

Dean threw the third pair of pants in the floor. Every single pair he had picked up ended up looking ratty or had a surprise hole somewhere. He had one last hope, a dark wash pair he had worn to Sam's graduation. 

He fit in them, even though they were about four years old. Figures, he thought. Being too poor to consistently afford food was great for your figure. 

He sighed before running his hand through his hair one last time, artfully tousling it as per usual. A spritz of the special aftershave Sam had gotten him for Christmas, and he was good to go. 

The drive was quiet, dusk painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and yellow. Dean loved summer sunsets. 

He found a convenient parking spot right in front of Cas's house, his sweaty palms gripping his phone tightly. He hadn't been able to save the five dollars for the white wine, and he was questioning the taste of a drink that cheap anyway. So, with empty hands he made his way to the garden gate. 

He stepped in, walked through and reached the less dense part of the plants where the grass started, and promptly stood still. 

The fairy lights around the pergola were on, throwing a warm but soft light onto the porch itself. The stairs were flanked by huge candles, adding to the comforting and warm lighting. 

A step further and he saw the pillows. At least a dozen spread out, different shades and shapes and sizes, converting the unforgiving wood into a sea of softness. Two plaid blankets were folded up next to the door, set behind an expensive looking laptop. 

The porch door was open, as was the screen, and Dean could hear piano music playing softly. He stepped onto the porch, and after considering for a moment, took his shoes off. He dug his toes into the soft pillows and couldn't help but grin. 

"Cas?" 

"Yes, I'm coming," Cas shouted and a moment later he appeared. He stood further back than Dean was used to by now. 

"Hello, Dean." 

"Hi, Cas," Dean said and sat down.

"I hope you like it," Cas said and Dean nodded. 

"It's beautiful." 

"It's brighter here than usual, but I thought I could turn the lights off? If you don't mind eating in the dark, that is." Cas sounded unsure. 

"Nah, it's fine. I'm sorry, I didn't bring the wine. I forgot it at home," Dean said and felt guilt seep into his stomach.

"It's alright. I always have some here anyways, and I also have some juice. I don't know if you're allergic, or I could-" 

"I couldn't afford it," Dean blurted, fidgeting and not looking in Cas's direction. "Sorry for lying. It's not exactly glamorous."

"Oh. Dean, that's okay. You should've said, I could have added some to my grocery order. It wouldn't have been any issue at all." Cas's voice was warm and reassuring. 

"I just wanted to bring something, and not be douchey and have you pay for stuff."

Cas hummed in reply. "You brought yourself. For me, that's more than enough." 

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the Cas-typical sincerity of the statement, even though he still felt a bit ashamed. "You big sap. What's for dinner?" 

"I made chicken wings. I figured finger food would be practical, and I know you told me you really liked them." Cas turned and walked into the kitchen, while Dean sat and waited, stomach going crazy with a frankly ridiculous amount of butterflies. 

Cas returned with a huge plate he set on a particularly big pillow, before going back and adding two filled wine glasses. He carefully sat them down and Dean leaned over. 

"Dude, did you put berries in that?" 

"Yes. They're frozen, so the wine stays cool but won't get watery. I read it on a cooking blog once." Cas hovered, and Dean raised his brows. 

"You good?" 

"Yes, I-" Cas interrupted himself before hitting a switch that turned off the string lights and dipped the porch into almost complete darkness. The big candles on the stairs threw blurry mirror images on the entire wall, reaching out but not entirely illuminating what was happening. 

"Dean, I know it's quite dark but- can you still try to not look at my face? I'm scared of you seeing something, but I don't want to spend our first date not sitting next to each other," Cas said quietly.

Dean gave a thumbs up before grabbing his glass and then stopping. "Uh, how do you want to sit? Not to complain, but I don't think my back can take sitting up for a couple hours."

"The screen door opens to the outside too, we could open it, move the big pot over there and then use it as a back rest?

"Sure, let me do that." Dean got to work while Cas sat down, unfolding the blanket and booting up the computer. 

Dean successfully created their makeshift back rest and plopped down next to Cas. The laptop showed the DVD menu for Star Wars, and a huge smile snuck onto his face. 

"Did you buy the DVD?" 

He felt Cas shift against him. "Yes. You told me you enjoyed those movies, so I bought all of them. Star Trek too. I didn't know what you wanted to watch and if this was okay," he added and Dean grabbed his hand.

"It's perfect," he said and felt Cas relax. He let go again to pick up the plate with their food and set it right in front of them. 

"Ready?" 

"Yup," Dean said and grabbed a chicken wing. 

The title music started playing, and he couldn't help but grin around the food in his mouth. Cas had really put thought into this, and clearly cared about him. 

The food was gone within half an hour, both men hungry from a long day. The wine glasses were drained and refilled before Dean cut himself off to be able to drive later. 

During the movie, they both gravitated even closer to each other, burrowing deeper into the blankets and pillows before ending up almost laying flat, Cas's head leaning against Dean's shoulder. He made sure to stay perfectly still. 

Their hands found each other like it was the most natural thing, and Dean felt safe in the warmth and care of the wonderfully kind man he was snuggled up to. It should've scared him much more than it did, but the happiness outweighed the worry. Cas had issues too, and for once Dean didn't feel like the lone fuck up. 

He almost missed the credits starting, he was so focused on how _warm_ Cas was, on his every breath and reaction to the film. 

"How'd you like it?" Dean said after closing the laptop and nudging it away from them. 

"It was very different. I liked it, though. I look forward to seeing the next ones." Cas squeezed his hand and Dean smiled. 

"Best date ever," he whispered to himself. 

"I'll have to agree," Cas whispered back, and Dean grinned widely. 

He turned his head a bit and pressed his nose into Cas's hair. He responded by taking a loose hold of Dean's shirt. 

"Dean," he said and Dean hummed. 

"My eyes are closed."

"Okay," Cas whispered. 

Dean lifted his hand and placed it at the back of Cas's head, making sure to keep his touch light. 

He inched closer, his nose meeting Cas's and nudging him feathery light. He could feel Cas's every exhale ghost over his lips, could taste the residual sweetness of the wine. 

As he tried to close the remaining distance, though, Cas tilted his head away.

"Dean." He sounded pained. 

"You okay?" 

"This... has been wonderful, but you still don't know what I look like. What you're getting yourself into. What if you kiss me and then regret it later?" Cas sounded small, felt tense under Dean's hands. 

He shook his head. "Not gonna happen. But I'm not going to make you kiss me if you're not ready yet. It's okay," he stressed and pulled Cas in for a closer hug.

"Would you want to have a second date?" 

"Buddy, I want as many as you want to give."

He felt Cas play with the collar of his henley, before the reply came. 

"Next time. We'll order in or cook, and watch a movie. My couch is big and very comfortable."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Inside?" 

"Yes," Cas said, and Dean's heart came close to bursting. 

"Thank you," he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of Cas's head. "In that case, gimme a day and time and I'll be here."

*

Dean scrubbed and scrubbed at the grime under his nails. Work had been exhausting; two sick colleagues from hayfever meant extra work for Dean. Additional money, too, but he was incredibly tired. He wouldn't miss his date with Cas even four broken limbs though, so even with an aching back and the start of a headache, he drove over to Cas's. 

Before he got out of the car, he checked if his hair looked fine and prayed that there were no stains or holes on his henley he had missed. Only then did he get out and walk up to the door. 

Before he could knock, the cat door opened. 

"Can you come into the garden?" 

"Sure," Dean said and found himself on Cas's patio a minute later, more nervous than he'd ever been, staring at the open door. He shifted smoothed the front of his shirt for one last time, entered the house.

He stepped into the kitchen first. Across him was an archway leading into the living room, the large windows letting sunlight spill over the wood counters. The colors were all dark and rich, but the lighting prevented it from being too gloomy or claustrophobic. 

"Cas?" 

"In the living room," came the reply and Dean swallowed. 

He took a breath deep enough to dive the entire Mariana trench, and entered the next room. 

There were dark wooden floors, light blue walls and an overstuffed armchair next to the sofa he recognized from Cas's picture. The bookshelves that flanked the TV were overflowing with books and loose paper. There were flowers on the coffee table but most importantly, there was Cas. 

He stood with his back to Dean, clad in jeans and a teal shirt that stretched over tense back muscles. His hands were balled to fists at his sides, his head lowered slightly. 

"Cas." 

Cas seemed to tense even further, and Dean longed to step closer and touch. But he waited.

"Hello, Dean." Cas's rough voice washed over Dean's electrocuted nerves, calming him. This was Cas. There was no reason to be nervous. 

Dean was about to ask if he was okay when he heard Cas exhale shakily before he turned around to face him. 

Piercing blue eyes looked at him, full of fear and sadness. Dark, tousled hair. A strong jaw and a beautiful set of pink, chapped lips. And two prominent scars.

The first one started at Cas's right eyebrow and curved downwards, only missing his eye incrementally before ending on the apple of his cheek. The second one was bigger, longer and harsher. It found its beginning on his left temple and ran down and across until it reached his mouth, cutting into his upper lip slightly. 

Dean followed each scar with his eyes multiple times, but the reason his chest hurt was not the looks of them, but the implication they held. As big as the scars were, the wounds before had been bigger, and Dean felt helpless. 

He spared only a few seconds to take in the rest of Cas: broad shoulders, strong thighs, bare feet. Slightly shorter than him. 

He was beautiful. 

Dean knew he was staring, but he couldn't get enough. Finally he was allowed, allowed to look and he couldn't help but greedily drink in the sight.

Cas visibly grew more nervous by the second, and Dean didn't even have to consider his next action for a second. All of his brain cells were busy screaming their approval. 

He closed the distance between them in two large strides, cradled Cas's face in his hands, and after giving him a moment to pull away, finally kissed him. 

It was fierce, Dean’s determination to communicate what he was feeling, what he was _seeing_, a beautiful man with a wonderful spirit and a huge heart, scarred but supportive and caring every waking minute. 

Dean pulled away too soon for his own taste, let his forehead rest against Cas's, let Cas’s breath wash over him. Bright eyes met his when he opened them. He felt a trembling hand on his waist and one at the back of his neck. 

"You're beautiful," Dean breathed, and this time, Cas kissed him. 

It was gentler this time, aching softness behind their motions.. The hand on his waist gripped him tighter, confidently. He opened his lips and let Cas in, tasting orange juice and warmth and just _Cas_.

At some point Dean’s lungs reminded him he needed air, and he reluctantly slowed the kiss until their mouths separated, but only enough to look into each other's eyes. They held on tight, breathing heavily. 

Cas's eyes were wide open, his hand caressing the short hair at the back of Dean's neck. 

"You're pretty hot too," Dean said and Cas’s expression shifted to one of surprise, then to a smile. The scar pulled at his lip a little, making it a bit lopsided but Dean loved it anyways. 

"Thank you," Cas said and Dean nudged his nose against his. "I can't believe... Dean, are you sure? I know I didn't tell you anything, but-" 

Dean interrupted him with a brief kiss, and after it Cas continued to stare at him. 

"Don't think I've ever been this sure about anything. You're beautiful, and your scars ain't gonna change that." Dean butted his head softly, and Cas closed his eyes.

"I can't tell you how glad I am you're saying this," Cas said. "I was ready to let you go, and it would have been torture, but... Here you are." 

"Yup," Dean said and they both laughed quietly. 

Wetness hit his nose, and with a shock he realized Cas was tearing up. A second tear made its way down his face, following the ridge of a scar. 

"Cas," Dean mumbled and Cas breathed shakily. 

"Sorry," he said and moved to pull away, but Dean didn't let him. He cupped his face, before pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead. Another to his right temple, then his left. The tip of his nose, his eyelids, chin, both cheeks.

He followed the trail of both scars with his lips, until he reached his mouth and pressed another kiss there, lingering this time. He pulled back to hug Cas fully, his heart close to bursting and warmth high on his cheeks. 

After a few minutes they separated and Cas took Dean's hand. He led him around the couch and sat down, then motioned for Dean to do the same. 

"You have a nice house," Dean commented while Cas pushed away some of the pillows to create more space.

"Thank you," Cas said. "And thank you for accepting me still. The reason this-" He gestured to his own face, "-happened greatly exacerbates my fear and apprehension about showing my face. I'm sorry for being so secretive."

“It’s okay. You don't have to tell me, but what did happen?"

Cas nodded. He visibly braced himself, changed his sitting position until he sat cross legged, a sequined pillow in his lap.

"The people here are, as you most likely know yourself, quite often homophobic," Cas started. "I was lucky enough to not encounter the more, let’s say passionate,” he smiled sadly, “kind until I was an adult. I went away for college and came back here when I was twenty four. I had a boyfriend in college, but we had separated after graduation. I've never really known anyone here. 

“There was a gay bar here a couple of years ago. It wasn't open for long, you can probably imagine why. I was a regular there, not because of potential partners, but just to be able to exist somewhere safely and without judgment. 

“I was coming back on a Saturday night. I had walked there because it was summer, and the weather was lovely. I didn't realize that a group of men was following me. They attacked me in an alley about two blocks from here."

Cas pulled at the threads holding the pillow’s sequin pattern together, turning the little plastic pieces so harshly that Dean considered saying something, but he didn’t want to interrupt Cas. 

"There were four men. I knew none of them. At first they just insulted me, nothing I hadn't heard before. When I ignored them and tried to walk away, one grabbed me."

Dean’s hands tightened in his lap. He tried to not let his face betray what he was feeling, didn’t want to make this any harder for Cas than it already must be.

"They started hitting me. I tried to defend myself but I couldn't. When I broke one of their noses, they got very angry. They had empty beer bottles, and before I could do anything they hit me on the head with one."

Cas leaned over and moved Dean's hand to his head, a bit behind his ear. Dean was confused until he felt a thick scar under his fingers, stretching two or three inches over his scalp. 

"It broke and there were shards of glass on the ground. I fell and couldn't catch myself. The glass cut into my face, and I lost consciousness. I woke up a week later in the hospital." 

"I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean said and Cas met his eyes briefly. The late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm glow, flooding over the hardwood floor. Cas's eyelashes looked like they were dipped in gold, his eyes more teal than blue. 

Dean looked at him and couldn't help the surge of protectiveness, right behind his sadness over what had happened to Cas. He found himself studying Cas's face, in awe of how far this man had come, what obstacles he had faced and how truly amazing he was. Dean felt privileged to have Cas trust him like this, and he swore in that moment to never let him down. 

"Are you okay?" Dean reached for Cas's hand, who took it and laced their fingers together.

"I am now," Cas said and his kind eyes met Dean's worried ones. "I would, however, suggest that we cook sooner than later. I'm quite hungry."

Dean laughed and stood, pulling up Cas with him. 

"I have just the recipe for you then." 

They spent the evening eating and laughing, trading soft kisses and softer smiles. The privilege of touching and staring, they both cherished. It was new and old at the same time, different but unchanged to the intimacy and trust they had already grown. 

*

Warm summer rain soaked Dean's shirt within seconds. He ran through Cas's garden and knocked on the door, glad to be safe from the sudden outpouring. 

Within seconds the door opened, and Dean practically fell into Cas's arms. 

"You're wet," Cas protested, but wound his arms around Dean's neck anyway. 

"Excellent observation," Dean said and couldn't resist kissing him. One kiss turned into two, three, and soon they were pressed together head to toe, Dean dripping onto the kitchen tiles and Cas's hands fisted in his wet hair.

A quick swipe of Cas' tongue went unanswered as Dean pulled back infinitesimally.

"Not that I'm not on board with this, but can I borrow a shirt? This honestly feels kinda gross." Dean pulled at the saggy shirt, and Cas nodded. 

"Of course. I can show you the upstairs," he said and walked towards the living room. 

Dean followed him through the room to the front door, where Cas stopped at the foot of the stairs. He gestured to the door. 

"This is what our conversations looked like from my side. I had a pillow here too." 

Dean grinned at him. "Looks comfier than my side," he said and Cas rolled his eyes. 

"You had plenty of pillows offered to you; you just never took them." Cas made his way up the dark wooden stairs, a bit creaky and with art prints lining the wall to the right. Watercolor pictures of flowers mostly, with a couple animals in between. The pastel colors contrasted the rough wood around them, and Dean really liked it. Everything seemed so deliberate, care and love in every detail of the house.

The hallway upstairs revealed three doors: one next to the stairs, another a few feet further to the right, and the last one at the end of the hall.

"This is my office." Cas pointed to the first closed door. "I have my computer and headset in there, along with some other necessities. I collected some things to create a comfortable environment, since some of the calls I take can be very jarring."

Dean hummed in response. "I still think it's awesome you do this. I can't imagine listening to a kid talk about issues like that, not that I'd be a big help to someone with this stuff anyways." 

Cas shook his head. "On the contrary, I think your perspective could be helpful to some of them. A lot of children and teenagers are from very traditional families who are less than accepting of their sexuality, and even though I didn't have a harmonic life with my family, they never cared about this topic."

"It took me years of secret hookups to even think about the fact that I'm not straight." Dean said, shooting Cas a sceptical look. "Don't think I'd be very helpful. Although my old man trying to beat it out of me probably didn't help with the whole self-acceptance thing." He shrugged. 

"Dean." Cas was on him at an instant, hugging him tightly. 

Dean smiled into Cas's shoulder before pulling back. "It's fine, that shit died with him."

Cas looked at him for a long moment before nodding and taking his hand,leading him to the other door down the hall. He pushed it open and Dean couldn't help but gape. 

The room was the most beautiful of the entire house. The walls were a rich dark blue, the furniture was some type of dark wood, as were the support beams of the ceiling. Two huge windows to the garden were on the wall opposite the door, the bed nestled between them. The pillows on the bed were white, as were the curtains that billowed softly in the late summer night’s breeze. A few specks of dark purple pillows between more blue ones created a warm and inviting color scheme. 

A circular rug was in the middle of the room, with a heavy dresser next to the door. It held an array of candles and a flower vase with pink roses that Dean remembered seeing in the garden. The air smelled like vanilla, and Dean was pretty sure he just fell in love with a room. 

"No wonder you haven't gone insane from being home all the time," Dean said as he stepped into the room fully. "If my bedroom was this nice, I'd never get out of bed."

Cas beamed at him. "I'm glad you like it. I spent a lot of time putting this room together, and I really do love being in here."

"That bed looks really soft," Dean said and grinned wolfishly at Cas. "I wonder..." Dean took Cas's hand and pulled him close. He walked backwards until he felt the foot of the bed against the back of his legs, then sat down. Cas still held his hand and regarded him with a heated look in his eyes. Dean scooted backwards and pulled his shirt off.

"I was promised a new shirt," he said and Cas rolled his eyes at him before going to the dresser and rummaging around in the top drawer. He resurfaced with a blue henley and tossed it to Dean, who pulled it on. 

Cas lit the candles on the dresser, then approached the bed and sat down next to Dean.There was a small sauce stain on his sweatpants, and Dean felt self conscious in his old jeans. 

"You’re really settin' the mood here," Dean said and nudged him softly. 

"I thought it would be nicer than a lamp. I can-" 

"No, I like the candles. Makes it even cozier in here. I ah, just don't want to get your bed dirty. Any chance you got a spare of those?" Dean pointed to Cas's pants. 

"Of course," Cas said and Dean soon found himself clad in Cas's soft pajamas, both of them sitting huddled together on his bed with a blanket draped over them and the warm candlelight casting the room into a comfortable semi-darkness.

After a handful of slow kisses, Cas rested his forehead against Dean's. "What you said earlier about your father," Cas began but Dean pulled back immediately. 

He shook his head and looked away from Cas. "I know I told you some stuff, but I don't want to talk about him. It took me a long fucking time to accept that there's nothing wrong with me, and I don't want to think of him right now. I'm sorry." 

Cas touched Dean's jaw and turned his head back to face him.

"You never have to apologize for mentioning him, or telling me anything about you or something that pains you. I said I'd help you to carry anything you give me, and I meant it. I'm sorry for prying." Cas searched Dean's eyes for anger, but found none. There was just warmth, the gold specks in the green of them almost glowing with the soft light. 

Dean huffed a small laugh. "I feel like all we do is apologize to each other."

Cas smiled at him. "We do some of this too," he said and leaned in to kiss Dean, who held onto him and kissed back with enthusiasm.

After a languid makeout session they went back downstairs, and Dean plopped down on Cas's oversized and overstuffed couch to scroll through Netflix. Cas ran around behind him to find and then feed Hannah. Dean settled on the next Star Wars movie to continue his personal quest to educate Cas on his favorite movies.

"Hey, do you have popcorn?" 

"Yes. Butter okay?" Cas stepped into Dean's line of vision, Hannah in his arms and butting her head against his chin. It was a frankly adorable sight, such a broad man carefully cradling his cat. 

"Yeah, but I can do it too. You take care of the sneeze machine." Dean got up and stroked behind the cat’s ears, then petted Cas's hair too while he was at it. Cas raised an eyebrow, but a soft smile played around his lips. Dean leaned forward to kiss him before heading into the kitchen. 

He looked at the drawings and cards pinned to the fridge, either wishing Cas a speedy recovery or birthday cards, a few just with drawings on them. He recognized some of them from the weekly deliveries he’d brought Cas. It was so like him to not only keep but display them. 

Dean smiled as he let his fingers roam over the course glitter on one card. Cas was someone who _saw_ things, whether it be emotions or that something was made with effort and love. His garden and job spoke of it, and he treated every living thing with care and respect. He had done so with Dean, and he was immensely grateful that Cas had decided he was worth the effort. 

In search of a glass for water, he opened several cupboards, picked a cup with flowers on it, and went to close a drawer he’d noticed was open. He paused, however, when he saw bright orange glaring at him from the inside. 

He took a closer look and recognized them as prescription pill bottles, at least half a dozen. 

"Synthetic serotonin is one of the best inventions, if you ask me." Dean almost jumped at Cas's voice, and looked at him sheepishly while the popcorn gave its first popping sounds from the microwave. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to be nosy." 

Cas shook his head and walked over to him to open the drawer fully.

"This is one of my antidepressants," he said and pointed to one bottle. "It helps me get up in the morning. The one next to it is for my anxiety and, unsurprisingly, my PTSD. This one is for sleeping, and the others are empty to remind me to get my prescriptions refilled."

Dean nodded along and pointed to a collection of loose tea bags next to the pill bottles. "Is that, like, special happy brain tea?" 

Cas smiled. He opened one of the tea bags and held it under Dean's nose. 

"Peppermint?" Dean asked. 

"Yes. I always drink tea before going to bed. I like to think it helps me sleep." Cas carefully rewrapped the bag in its paper and placed it back in the drawer. He closed it. 

"Do you get nightmares?" Dean asked.

"Yes. Often." Cas looked at him with sad eyes, and Dean grabbed his hand.

"Me too," he said. "My dad, or Sam. Sometimes my mom too. Can be pretty fucked up, and I don't love having them."

Cas nodded and squeezed Dean's hand. "Nightmares are indeed..." He paused and his lip curled slightly. "Fucked up."

The curse sounded foreign coming from Cas, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. He let go of Cas's hand to take the popcorn out of the microwave, a bowl handed to him immediately. 

Cas left the kitchen and Dean finished pouring the melted butter on the popcorn before stirring it and going to join him on the couch. Cas was already sitting down, right in the middle with a blanket on his lap. He looked up at him with happy eyes, and Dean liked to think it wasn't entirely because of the delicious smelling popcorn in his hands. 

"What are we watching?" Cas lifted the blanket for Dean to slide under. 

"The next Star Wars! Figured we gotta make a fan out of you ASAP.." 

"That" Cas said, "sounds lovely." 

*

As he was cleaning up glitter glue bottles and craft paper scraps, Dean’s eyes fell on a big and colorful calendar on the wall next to one of the big sofas. He stepped closer and realized it was full with handwritten notes and stickers, mainly people’s birthdays but also special events from the VSI. Dean skimmed over the August page that was open and at the end it said in big, bright blue letters ‘CASTIEL’S 38th BIRTHDAY!!!’ with two little hearts. Dean smiled at that, and quickly took out his phone to write down the date. Then he made his way into Ben’s office with the trash he had collected as well as the leftovers from crafting. He carefully sorted everything into its box, threw the empty sticker paper away, and then tackled the task of the small mountain of things on Ben’s desk. All of it was for Cas, and he started sorting through it to prevent anything from getting crushed during transport. 

Dean tried desperately to fit everything into the box, but to no avail. There was too much stuff this time, and he'd have to go twice. With a bit too much force, he pushed the box away from him, and a few letters floated to the floor. He stared at them, sighed, and laced his fingers behind his neck. He straightened his spine before trying to relax again. Cas had shown him these techniques to help with his stress and anger, though he had forgotten what they were called. Tense, let go, breathe. The air in Ben's office smelled like soil and flowers, a bit like dust and paper too. A hint of Old Spice from the man himself lingered at the desk. Tense, let go, breathe. 

The door behind him opened with a squeak. "You okay?" Ben's voice was gruff but kind.

Dean dropped his hands to his sides and turned to him. "Bad week," he answered honestly, and Ben nodded. 

"Yeah, we all have them. Doesn't make them suck any less. You staying with Cas after delivering those?" He pointed to the boxes on the desk. 

"Uh, yeah, why?" 

Ben grinned at him. "Don't act all shy now, Dean. I've only heard the best things about you from Cas."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You talk about me?" 

Ben sat down at his desk with a deep sigh and turned on his computer. "Apart from stuff regarding the VSI, we generally talk about Cas's day, and what he's up to and if he's feeling alright. Since you two are apparently attached at the hip and the-" He gestured to Dean's crotch, and Dean immediately blushed furiously."That mostly includes you. Or is only about you. I swear, I feel like I'm dating you sometimes with how much Cas talks about you. Although I really don't swing that way, no offense."

Dean swallowed. "None taken," he replied. 

"I'm happy for y’all. I think you're great together, and Cas even mentioned coming to one of the group sessions again someday. He never used to do that before..well, before you."

Dean was too surprised to mask his expression. Cas hadn't mention anything about this to him, and he was thrilled to hear it. 

"How long has it been? With you two," Ben asked him while typing something on his computer.

"Uh, a couple months now? Like three or-"

"Since you've been together, Dean. I'm well aware of when you started working here." 

"Ah, about a month then. I think, at least." Dean scratched his temple before remembering something else. "Hey, speaking of Cas, I saw it was his birthday soon?" 

Ben nodded. "Yep. I spend it with him almost every year. To be honest with you, I'm happy as a clam that he has you. I don't trust easy, neither does he, but you're a good kid. I'm glad to be able to bring enough drinks for three this year. Did he talk about any plans for it?"

Dean smiled in earnest. "He hasn’t yet. And, me too. It's bad enough something like this happened to him, but he isolates himself because of it, and as much as he acts like he doesn’t need anyone, we both know that’s not true. I want to try and make his birthday special. Maybe you can help? What's his favorite cake?" 

"He loves everything with fruit," Ben said. "He hates vanilla, though, and nuts. Which, hilarious, if you ask me." His grin was answered by another blush of Dean's. "I brought chocolate strawberry cupcakes one year, and he loved them. So, maybe that." 

Dean wrote a note in his phone. "Okay, what about gifts? Anything he mentioned?" 

Ben shook his head at that. "He never does. He's happy with self-made things, cards, maybe a nice super-size Yankee candle in whatever new scent they have. We have enough people that want to chip in together to buy something nice, but we never know what."

Dean thought for a moment. "What about a Kindle? Cas loves books, but he's careful with reading when he's in the garden. The new models are all waterproof and pretty hard to break, and books for that are cheaper too I think. There’s also a library connection thing, I know Cas has a card for it anyways."

At Ben's raised eyebrows Dean suddenly got self conscious. “What? I looked it up," he mumbled. 

"Nothing. You really do care about him."

"I do." Dean met Ben's gaze with squared shoulders. 

"Alright. I'll ask the others what they think, and we should be able to make it work. You go and bring Cas the stuff from this week." 

Dean nodded and then saw the letters still on the floor. "Hey, uh, could you maybe help me get this to my car? I didn't get a parking space very close to here." 

"Sure," Ben said and got up to grab some wayward cards off his desk. "Oh, and Dean?" 

Dean looked up from where he was now carefully layering things in the box.

"We may be a bit old and off our rockers, but we all still know how to shoot. And we all love Castiel. That's all."

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "I appreciate the threat of a passion crime, but it's not needed. The day I hurt Cas I’ll shoot myself in the foot, believe me." 

Ben looked satisfied with his answer, and they both carried everything to Dean's car. 

*

Dean loved Sam. He missed him. But, he was too scared to talk to him more often. Sam leaving for California four years ago had been horrible, though Dean would never admit that to him. It had hurt him deeply, and he felt that ever since then, he and Sam just lost something between them. They’d had no contact at all for the first months because Dean was too upset to call, and Sam too busy. Later there was sporadic texting, a call for Christmas, but that was it. Dean was determined to try and change something though. Cas had quietly suggested talking to Sam a few nights ago, and Dean had been thinking about it ever since. Cas’s idea that maybe Sam never called because he thought Dean wouldn’t want to talk to him he had brushed off though. The worst Sam could say was no, although that would do its fair share of kicking Dean in the heart.

Dean breathed deeply before hitting the call button. One ring, two, three...he was losing the bravery he had scraped together moments before, but then Sam picked up on the eighth ring.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Sam.” Dean tried to relax. This was Sammy.

“Why are you calling? Is everything okay?” Sam asked, not unkindly. 

“No. Yes! Everything’s okay, I mean.” Dean scratched his head. “Listen, I wanted to ask if you, uh, wanted to get together for Thanksgiving? I could drive out, spend a couple days maybe. I bet California’s motels are nicer than the ones here.” He choked out a dry laugh. 

“Uh,” Sam said. “Yeah, okay? I don’t have much space, but you can sleep here if you want to. Save the motel money.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, sure. Yeah. I’ll, uh...I’ll text you the details when I’ve worked out when I can take time off work?”

“Sure, Dean. I’m glad you called.”

“Me too. And, thanks.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “You’re always welcome here, Dean.”

Dean felt a suspicious sting in his eyes, shook his head and dug his nails into his palm. “Uh, okay. Bye.” 

He hung up, dropped the phone on the couch and groaned, his head in his hands. Smooth was something different, but he got it done. And now he had something great to look forward to.

*

Cas was squatting between flower beds when Dean entered the garden and reached the open part of it. Dean didn't say anything but chose to just watch him for a moment. 

Cas was clad in light wash jeans, a dirt-stained shirt, and his hair looked like he had been electrocuted. Dean grinned at that; he knew Cas habitually messed up his own hair when he was in deep concentration, and it was adorable. 

In that moment Castiel scratched his head, messing up his hair again and leaving behind soil and flower petal fragments. Dean shook his head in amusement and stepped closer to Cas, making sure to shuffle loudly. Cas turned and rose to his full height before practically beaming at Dean, who pulled him close and gave him a kiss to the forehead. 

"Hello, sunshine. What's got you all happy?" 

Cas wormed his arms around Dean's waist and pressed a quick kiss to Dean's neck. 

"I've been tending to my english roses, they can be very sensitive and require a lot of care. It's been quite a challenge, but they bloomed for the first time today!" Cas pointed to a pair of white roses, which looked extremely delicate even to Dean's untrained eye. He whistled and nuzzled Cas's head. 

"Good job, sweetheart."

"Thank you. It's wonderful to see the hard work pay off."

Dean nodded before remembering his earlier train of thought. "Hey, you got any plans for your birthday?”

“How do you know my birthday is coming up?” Cas asked with a frown on his face. 

“Calendar at the VSI,” Dean said and pecked Cas on the lips briefly. 

Cas smiled softly at him, then stepped away and back between the flowers. He bent down to pick up a pair of shears and a small shovel, then turned back to Dean and pointed to some flowers to his right. 

"I don't have anything specific in mind. I usually order in and read, or watch something. Could you help me for a moment? I need to trim the hedge but the flower beds need tending to. There's a lot of weeds starting to grow between them." He stepped around Dean to the patio and grabbed a big pair of garden shears. 

Dean grimaced. "Can I do the trimming? I'm not entirely sure I would know if I'm killing a flower or a weed."

"Of course," Cas handed him the shears. "Just trim the flimsy ends; it doesn't have to be perfect. I just wanted to get everything done before it gets dark, which will be in about two hours."

"Can do. And, I can pick up any food you want, so give me an order and I'll get us something tasty for your birthday. If you want me to come over." 

"I'd love for you to come. I haven't had anyone but Ben with me for the past few years, so it'd be lovely to have you with me." Cas smiled shyly at Dean, who grinned back. 

"It's a date. Let's get to shredding." Dean twirled the shears around.

"Please don't destroy any of my plants," Cas said.

Dean laughed and stalked over the grass, making sure to not step on anything, then got to work cutting away wayward twigs along the hedge. He moved from one end to the other, leaving behind a trail of small twigs and leaves. When he reached the corner, he rolled his shoulders and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked around and noticed Cas's absence, and that the day was less bright and the sky was now painted in pinks and oranges. 

Another thorough stretch of his back and he made his way across the yard to the patio to place the shears back where Cas had taken them from. A creak announced Cas's return, and Dean happily noticed the two bottles of pink lemonade in his hands. 

"It's my favorite summer beverage," Cas said when he handed him a bottle. 

"Thanks." Condensation ran down Dean's fingers when he lifted the bottle to his lips. The drink wasn't overly sweet but not too sour either, ice cold and exactly what Dean needed. He made an approving noise and Cas looked awfully pleased with himself. 

While Dean was still looking at him he took a sip, then downed half the bottle in one go. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Someone's thirsty?" 

"Very. It's one of the more handy skills I've learned." 

"Serving.. lemonade?" Dean asked before taking another sip. 

"Relaxing my jaw," Cas said and Dean choked and sputtered at that. 

Cas smirked at him before disappearing into the house again. After Dean's recovery from the sudden assault on his trachea, Cas reappeared with a Tupperware container and a blanket bunched under one arm. 

"Can you bring some of the pillows?" he asked while walking past Dean onto the grass. 

"Sure," Dean said and grabbed as many pillows as he could (which ended up being about six, they were _very_ floofy) and brought them to Cas, who had spread the blanket on the grass and set the Tupperware next to it. Dean opened his arms and let the pillows drop, then Cas arranged them to one side while sitting cross-legged on the blanket. Dean joined him and pointed to the small blue plastic container.

"What's that?" 

Cas opened it and set it down between them. "Honey and oatmeal cookies. I made them myself, it's a new recipe but I quite like them." He offered one to Dean, who accepted it happily. 

While munching on the delicious cookie, he watched Cas take off his shoes and strip off his socks. He pointed to Dean's feet. "Feel free to do the same. Being barefoot after wearing shoes for many hours while doing physical labor is divine."

Dean crammed the rest of the cookie in his mouth and toed off his boots and socks. Cas was right as always, the grass felt smooth and cool under his heated feet, and he wiggled his toes. He leaned back until his head was cushioned by the small mountain of pillows. The sky had turned a darker blue, edges of pink still visible at the horizon. The sparse buildings didn't produce enough light to drown out the sky, and Dean looked at the stars. 

After some shuffling Cas lay down next to him, and Dean turned to the side fully to look at him instead of the stars. Cas's long dark lashes skimmed his eyebrows. Their afternoon would only deepen Cas's golden tan, and maybe give Dean a couple more freckles. 

Cas noticed him looking, turned his head, and smiled at him. Dean mirrored his expression and they just grinned at each other like idiots. 

“I called Sam today,” Dean said. “I took your advice. I asked about visiting him for Thanksgiving, and he said yes. Also said I could crash at his place.” Dean closed his eyes briefly. Then, he smiled even more. “I can’t wait to see him again.”

When he opened his eyes, Cas was looking at him with pride. He leaned over and kissed him, before suddenly thinking of something he had wanted to talk to Cas about for a while.

Dean's smile dimmed, and he spoke before his brain could stop him. 

"I stole food," he said. Cas stopped smiling too, and just looked at him. "I had just gotten off the phone with Sam and we were arguing. It was bad. I was doing shit at my job because I was distracted, I felt sick all the time because I didn't eat enough. Food’s expensive, my job paid like shit and I wasn't really handling it well."

Cas's warm hand found his, and Dean was grateful for the small show of support. 

"There was a convenience store that had only a kid working there. I knew where the cameras were, or I guess I thought I knew. I stole bread and peanut butter and two bananas, crammed it all into my hoodie and walked out. The next day the police were at my door." Dean turned his head back and stared up at the starry sky.

"I fucked up, but I didn't know what to do. So that's what I did in the end. I hope you can look past this, maybe."

Cas was silent for a moment before sitting up a bit, leaning on his elbow and looking down at Dean. He laid his hand on Dean's cheek, and stroked it softly with his thumb. 

"I'm so sorry you were in that position. I don't think you're a bad person because of it, and it doesn't deter me at all from my feelings for you. I still think you're amazing, and an uneasy past doesn't change that in the slightest." Cas leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Dean's lips. 

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Cas added and Dean wordlessly pulled him close. He kissed Cas with an intensity that was foreign to him, trying hard to make Cas understand how incredible he was. He kissed him, again and again, open mouthed and breathy. 

Naturally Cas's position changed, and he ended up on top of Dean, his strong hands framing Dean's face while he switched between licking into Dean's mouth and just letting their lips meet over and over. 

Both of them gradually became more out of breath, and Dean felt his own cock press against Cas's. He rolled his hips and tasted Cas’s answering shaky exhale. Desperate for more he did it again, and Cas responded in likeness. 

After a moment Cas's mouth wandered along his jaw and down his neck, and he popped the button on Dean's jeans as he sucked lightly on Dean's pulse point. Dean couldn't stop the small groan that escaped him when Cas started unzipping his jeans. 

"Is this okay?" Cas looked at him with wide eyes, spit slick lips and a slightly flushed face. Dean nodded and Cas gave him a soft smile before diving back to Dean's neck and resuming his apparent hickey session. Skilled fingers found their way into Dean's boxers quickly, and Dean couldn't help but sigh when the by now cooler air hit his overheated skin. Cas gave him a few long strokes before pulling him out of his boxers fully. 

"Wait, hold on, you too," Dean mumbled and reached for Cas's pants. He basically tore them open and his hand wrapped around Cas. He pushed his boxers out of the way to have more room to move. Cas closed his eyes for a moment before letting go of Dean's cock. He held his palm to Dean's face, staring down at him with slightly hooded eyes. 

"Lick," he ordered, and damn it if Dean didn't obey immediately. He licked a broad stripe up Cas's palm, spending some extra time on wetting his fingers too, until Cas pulled away. He nudged Dean's legs apart a bit to settle better between them, before leaning over Dean again. He kissed him while taking both of them in hand, and the kiss quickly turned into just breathing into each other. 

Cas was amazing with his hands, and included all sorts of little twists and pressure changes that made Dean release embarrassing little noises. He clung to Cas, pulled his head close and catching his bottom lip between his teeth before joining Cas's effort with his free hand.

Soon they were panting and incoherent, stuttering hips and clumsy grinding. Cas came first, spurting over their joined hands and Dean's cock. The sudden warmth and added lubrication sent Dean over the edge right after him, simply mumbling the same thing over and over. 

Cas, Cas, _Cas_. 

Heaving chests pressed together as they carefully removed their hands, Dean reaching for a napkin before noticing that Cas was licking his own hand like it was the world's best lollipop. His brain stopped functioning for a moment while taking in that sight, and Cas raised an eyebrow while licking a stray drop of come from his wrist. 

Dean just shook his head and laughed quietly. 

"You're something else."

Cas reached for the napkin to dry his hand, before crumbling it up tossing it to the side. "Something good, I hope?" 

Dean nodded and pulled him close by the back of his neck. "Very much so." 

*

They had their own routine now. Dean would come by every Wednesday or Thursday, depending on Ben's scheduling, after his work at the VSI. He'd bring Cas the box with knitted goods and letters, and they'd sit and sort through them together. Dean would watch Cas get a little misty eyed at some of the cards, smiling at some others. They’d sort everything into folders, keeping written and painted art as well as pages upon pages of letters safe in plastic sleeves. Cas kept everything, and it didn't surprise Dean that a huge closet in his office was dedicated purely to everything people had sent him. 

Apart from the weekly visit with boxed goods, Dean was at Cas's house almost every day. If it wasn't dinner, they'd work in the garden together, watch movies or just keep each other company while reading or sorting through emails. Dean loved spending his time with Cas, but slowly the fear of imposing crept in on him. What if Cas was just too polite to send him away every once in a while? Did _he_ want Dean in his house constantly? Dean asked him that one night as they were cleaning up dinner, and Dean was wiping down the counters. Behind him, cutlery clattered to the floor and he turned to find Cas staring down at them with a heartbroken look on his face. 

"Are you asking because of something I said?" 

Dean stared at him. "What?" 

Cas shook his head. "I'm not good at this, Dean. If I say something that upsets you, please tell me. I've never had a healthy relationship before, I don't know what to do or what's important to communicate because you might assume otherwise, and if any of what I did gave you the feeling I didn't want you here, then I'm truly sorry." He stepped forward and grabbed Dean's hands. 

"I'm happy and amazed you want to spend so much time with me. I cherish every day I have with you, and I realize I may not be the perfect partner, but just let me know and I can _try_, I can try to—" 

"Cas, hey, hold on." 

Cas was looking away, but Dean leaned close a bit and managed to catch his eyes. He took a step closer, crowding him into the fridge slightly, forcing Cas to look up at him. 

"You didn't say anything bad, if that's what you're thinking. I just didn't think you could actually be interested in spending that much time with me, so I wanted to ask. And—" Cas opened his mouth but Dean just put a hand over it. "I think you're pretty perfect, so." Dean shrugged. "There's that."

He pulled away his hand and nosed at Cas's cheek, and Cas leaned into the touch. Dean pressed a tender kiss to Cas's cheek, the tip of his nose, his lips. Cas' hands wormed around Dean's neck, pulling slightly and kissing him more deeply. Dean licked into his mouth and Cas welcomed him, letting out encouraging little puffs of air and tangling his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck.

Dean pulled back with a smile on his spit-slick lips, and leaned down slightly to press his face into the side of Cas's neck. He smelled like laundry detergent and outside and warm and like _Cas_. 

"As much as I don't want to sour the mood, we still need to finish cleaning up. And you work early tomorrow, so you have to go soon." Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair, and Dean sighed. 

"Sour the mood, huh." Dean raised his head to look at Cas. Then, too quick for Cas to stop it, he leaned forward and licked a broad stripe up Cas's cheek. "Dunno," Dean said with a broad grin. "Tastes pretty sweet to me."

Cas rolled his eyes so hard Dean got concerned for a moment before pushing him away. "You are insufferable." 

Dean winked. "Don't I know it."

They cleaned up, Dean got dressed and after decidedly non-pg 13 goodnight kiss, drove back to his apartment, smiling like a complete idiot the whole way. 

*

Eleven dollars and fourteen cents. That's what Dean had left after having to repair his toilet. The old pipes just didn't hold up anymore and even though he DIY'd as much as he could, he still had to pay someone to help him. 

Now he sat on his living room floor nursing his fourth glass of a whiskey so cheap he was slightly concerned about actual throat burns, and he stared at the fucking toilet. It had a shiny new blue seat, because the dude at Home Depot offered him a deal. Seeing it made him angry, seeing the handful of new tiles where they’d had to dig into the floor, seeing the new pop of color, all of it made him angry. Money wasted, he thought. Money, and money, and money. He hated being dependant on anything or anyone, toilet or plumber or whoever or whatever. Never mind that he picked the seat color after Cas's exact eye color. 

He snorted a sad laugh. And his ex partners had called him unromantic. 

He drained the glass and got up to grab his sixth beer of the day. He started earlier and earlier with his little helpers, the promise of a soothed mind and some forced relaxation a happy outlook. He knew how much money he wasted on alcohol, but he kept the self hate over it at bay by reminding himself that he still had the little wad of bills in one of his kitchen drawers. Money saved up for dates with Cas, for food or a new movie or flowers he'd see at the grocery store. They always looked lovely in one of Cas's expensive vases, placed proudly in the middle of the coffee table. Dean sometimes couldn't believe how much and how deeply he felt for this amazing man. Cas had only been in his life for about six months by now, but Dean absolutely couldn't imagine his life without him anymore. He had completely taken it over, but far be it from Dean to complain. Cas had brought so much light and joy and love into his everyday situations and made him feel cared for for the first time since his mother had passed away.

"Hello? Dean?" 

"Huh," Dean mumbled and only then realized he had dialed Cas's number. Alright then. 

"Dean, are you there? Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, I'm just. I wanted to hear your voice. Sorry, it's dumb, if you're busy I can just hang up."

"No! No, I'm not busy. I was just surprised, usually you text before you call. I just finished up my evening shift. It was quiet today so I'm still up. Are you feeling okay?" Cas's voice carried warmth and Dean relaxed as he let it wash over him.

"'m okay. Just—no, not really super okay actually. I know I'm normally all okie-dokie but it's not like that today, Cas. Or the past days, or week. Or month, really. Year? Sorry, 'm rambling. Hey, did I tell you my toilet looks like you now?"

A beat of silence before Cas replied. "Dean, are you drunk? What happened?" 

Dean barked a hollow laugh. "Since when do I need a reason to drink?"

"You usually do it when you're upset. Do you want to come over and spend the night? I can call a taxi for you." 

"No, no thanks," Dean sighed. His eyes burned because in all honesty, he would love nothing more than to be with Cas right now. He didn't want him to spend money on Dean’s sorry ass, though. "'s like a thirty minute drive from me to you. Very not cheap," Dean said and popped the ‘p’. 

"I don't care. If you're feeling bad and you think I could help you, let me. I'd rather buy you a taxi drive than an eighteenth alpaca wool throw. I'll survive."

Dean whistled. "Eighteenth? Damn, Cas, think you're the addict here."

"Do you want to come over then?" 

"Yes. But no, I'll just finish this." Dean took a sip of his beer and spit it out again. "Lukewarm beer. Guess I'm not finishing it. Really gettin' my money's worth here."

"Dean," Cas said. "Come over. I actually still have a coupon from this taxi app for new customers. Ben recommended them. It won't be that expensive, and I told you I wouldn't care either way. Please."

Dean just mumbled something into the phone and laid down on the couch, the phone on speaker next to his head. A few moments passed before Cas spoke again. 

"I ordered the taxi. I paid up front, so now you have to use it or the money is wasted. It says it will be at your house in about eight minutes. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat when you're here?" 

"Cas," Dean said, pained. "I haven't even showered. I smell. And now I also smell like beer. It's not pretty."

"I don't care. You can shower here, or I could even join you. Or I can draw you a bath. This is really the last thing that concerns me." 

Dean's heart surged at the suggestions. He ached to be physically close to Cas. Holding Cas or being held by him was a balm, and he was just glad that Cas loved cuddling and physical affection as much as he did. 

"Do you want to bring something? Sleep clothes, a DVD?" Cas's voice was a bit further away now and sounded a bit hollow, Dean guessed he was on speaker and he could hear Cas rummaging around in whatever room he was in. 

"Didn't do laundry," Dean mumbled. 

"I can lend you some of mine then. If you want you can bring me your laundry. I can wash it for you."

"Not my mom, Cas."

He heard Cas sigh. "I know, Dean. But I also know what it's like to be depressed. I can help you with some things, and I know I appreciated it when Ben helped me when I couldn't even brush my teeth." 

"'M not depressed. My dad used to call me lazybones, and that I run away from stuff and take the easy way. Think he was right, you know."

"Absolutely not. Nothing about your life was an easy choice, or the easy way. You faced every terrible thing with all you had, and that's admirable. Mental illness has nothing to do with laziness, or lack of character, or being weak. It doesn't work like that. I can give you a book about it. It's an interesting read and offered me some new perspectives on how to deal with things."

"Okay," Dean whispered. 

"Good. Oh! The app says the car just reached your house. Put some shoes on, ideally, and just come here. The rest doesn't matter, to me or in general. I'll wait for you. I have to go into the garden for a moment and take care of Hannah, but if you want to or need to just call me back again. I'll see you in a bit." 

"Okay," Dean said again and hung up. He got up, his aching body protesting, and looked for shoes. He jammed his feet into old sneakers that got kicked under the couch a while ago. He pocketed his phone in his dirty sweatpants, pulled his askew hoodie straight and made his way downstairs. 

"Are you Dean?" A young man sat in a nondescript black Toyota, and talked to him through the rolled down window. Dean nodded and got into the back seat. "Your boyfriend said you're having a bad day, so feel free to have some of the chocolate I have in the jar back there. He also mentioned your love for classic rock, and I just happen to have _Houses of the Holy_ playing. We shouldn't take too long, there's no traffic at this time."

Dean nodded again. “Thanks," he said. 

The ride was quiet and smooth. The music played softly and Dean stared at the city lights flying past the tinted windows. He was uncomfortably aware of his slight BO, but Cas had been adamant that he wouldn't care. Hopefully he would still think that way. 

Twenty-two minutes later, they pulled up in front of Cas's house. "Here we are," the driver said. "Have a good night."

"Thanks, you too." Dean stumbled out of the car and walked to Cas's front door with more energy than he had had all week. He heard the car behind him drive away, and the front door opened before he could knock. 

"Hello," Cas smiled at him and then pulled him in, a warm and tight hug holding the last of him together. Dean buried his face in Cas' neck, inhaling his scent. His soft sleep shirt felt heavenly against Dean’s flushed skin, and he pulled back a bit.

"Hi," Dean rasped. 

Cas just pulled him back in for a moment, then nudging him around until he was able to close the front door. He took Dean's hand and led him upstairs and into the bedroom’s en suite. A litany of candles flickered on the bathroom counters. Cas walked to the claw-footed tub in the center of the room and turned on the faucets.

"What do you think about a lavender bubble bath?" Cas held up a purple glass bottle, visibly ready to mix Dean the bath of his dreams. 

"Sound good," Dean said. Cas poured a capful into the running water before placing the bottle back on the adjacent shelf. 

"You coming in with me?" Dean asked and ducked his head.

"Of course," Cas said and pulled off his sleep shirt. His tanned chest caught Dean's eye as always, though his own body wasn't interested in responding due to him drinking and being exhausted. Cas took off the rest of his clothes. He stepped close to Dean and began helping him out of his hoodie, then his shirt and sweatpants. Dean toed off his socks and rid himself of his boxers. 

He looked up to find that Cas had turned the faucets off, the scent of lavender wafting over to him, and the bubbles almost spilling over the sides.

Cas turned to him and held his hand out. Dean stared at him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him: his flat stomach, the vee of his legs pointing to his soft cock and the muscle packed thighs that framed it. Dean wanted to put his mouth on every inch of him, but for now he took Cas's hand and let himself be guided into the tub. Cas got in behind him, so Dean sat with his back to Cas's chest. 

He couldn't stop the bone-deep sigh escaping him as Cas ran soapy fingers through his hair and glided a loofah over his chest. He dipped it back into the water and washed Dean's arms and neck, dipped it back under and ran it over his groin and thighs.

"Thank you," Dean murmured and laid his head back on Cas's shoulder. He felt a kiss to his temple and forehead, and craned his neck to get one to his lips, too. 

"Any time." Cas stroked his arms and chest, ran his fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. Dean felt cocooned in the warm safety Cas had created for them here, and he loved it. Loved being with Cas. Loved Cas? 

He nuzzled Cas's jaw, and Cas pressed a quick kiss to his nose. 

Loved Cas. 

*

The days following were marked by Cas's constant presence in Dean's everyday life. They talked before Dean had to go to work, sometimes to get him into a better mindset, other times to try and get him out of bed in the first place. Cas would call during Dean's lunch break, which he only started taking after he confessed to Cas that he sometimes was shaking all over after work from pure exhaustion. Cas had told him that eighteen dollars wasn't worth the damage to his health, and he made him take a half-hour break with a snack. The best part about those was not only calling with Cas, but pulling out whatever he had made for Dean in the days prior. A turkey sandwich, fruit and vegetables with high-protein cream cheese, sometimes a muffin too. Dean was at Cas's house daily, getting help with his laundry or finally having his hair cut by the stylist who visited Cas. He was showering regularly, had some clean clothes, and was well fed. 

Dean felt small waves of shame crashing over him every day at how dependant he had become on Cas, how much he needed his help and reassurance. He felt like he was forcing Cas to be his caretaker, while Cas was adamant about giving Dean the support he needed. Even so, Dean still felt like an ungrateful leech. 

A week passed, and Dean slowly felt better. He always went home in the evenings, taking his bagged lunch and fresh laundry with him. 

After the second week, Dean asked Cas during his lunch break if he could sleep over that night. It was Friday. Cas had Saturday off, and Dean felt a little less like the local sad sack. 

"Really? Dean I would love that!" 

Cas sounded so excited that Dean immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry for not wanting to do it sooner. I just didn't want to spend our first night after a date together being all—" He gestured around as he was looking for words. "All... Sad?" 

Cas hummed in reply. "What an apt description. You should consider becoming a poet." 

Dean snorted. "Shut up." 

"Will you text me when you're on your way? And do you want something special for dinner? I recently got a menu from this new burger place. They have a meal deal for sides and drinks too. I thought it looked nice." 

"Sure," Dean said. "And yes to that burger place. I should be done here at five, but I'll let you know." Dean took another bite of his dessert, a Granny Smith apple today, and noticed his boss giving him the stink eye. "Think my break's over. I'll see you later."

"Alright. Have a good rest of the day, and drink your water!" 

Dean laughed at that. "Yes, I will. Promise."

"Good," Cas said and hung up. Dean shook his head as he pocketed his phone and polished off his apple, depositing the core in the nearest trash bin with a somewhat impressive throw. He rolled his sleeves back down and got back to work on the red Corolla that had been neglected by its owners. Dean took extra good care of it. 

The next four hours went by quickly, and before Dean knew it he had shot off a text to Cas and was on his way. He had the windows rolled down, the warm breeze drifting through his sweat-damp hair. A random rock song was on the radio, and he tapped the rhythm onto the steering wheel. 

He parked opposite Cas's house and walked to the front door. As per usual, it opened before he could knock, and Cas pulled him into a crushing hug. Also as per usual, the hug turned R-rated quickly when lips came into play, and they caught themselves making out with gusto in the half-open front door. 

"Hi," Dean said and Cas kissed his cheek. 

"Hello. Do you want to go upstairs? I have to turn off the sprinkler but I'll join you in a moment." Cas stroked Dean's neck and searched his face. Dean guessed it was to see if he was feeling stressed or overwhelmed. Today, he felt none of it.

"Sure." He gave Cas a quick kiss on the nose. "Want me to run the bath too?" 

Cas nodded before letting go of him and heading to the living room. "It's your turn to pick the scent anyways. I got a little box with a couple minis to test this new brand I found. 

Dean went upstairs and into the bathroom, already shedding his dirty and sweaty clothes. Naked, he turned on the faucets and eyed the wide selection of bottles on the small cart next to the tub. He picked a green one for muscle relief, along with a small red one that would add little scent but additional bubbles. He poured a generous amount of both into the running water and was delighted at the burst of bubbles. Sue him, a bath without bubbles was boring. 

He made his way through the room to light the candles sitting on most surfaces, much like in Cas' bedroom. The soft pit-pat of naked feet alerted him to Cas' presence behind him, and he turned around. 

Cas was standing shirtless and barefoot in his black sweatpants, staring openly at Dean. He shook his head and came closer, sliding his arms around Dean's waist and pressing his face into Dean's neck.

Dean squirmed slightly and tried to push him off. "I'm all sweaty and disgusting," he said. Cas responded by placing open mouthed kisses along on his neck and along his jaw until he reached Dean's mouth. 

"Can't say I mind," Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"You’re too dirty for your own good," Dean teased and opened the string of Cas's pants. 

At Cas’s insistent nibbling at the bolt of his jaw, he turned his head and kissed him fully. He loved tasting his little exhales whenever they deepened their kisses. Cas gave his sweats a little nudge until they fell to the ground, and he stepped out of them. He got in the tub first with Dean between his legs as usual, arms wound around his shoulders and doing nothing but holding him. 

Cas wet Dean's hair and massaged shampoo into it, the smell of vanilla enveloping Dean's head as he let out a soft moan at the feeling of Cas’s fingers running over his scalp. 

"Good?" Cas's voice was teasing; he knew how tense and exhausted Dean was after long shifts. At Dean's answering hum, Cas relocated his skilled fingers to Dean's shoulders and kneaded into them with vigor. Dean nearly purred, pressing his back into Cas and smiling to himself.

"Let's go to bed. If you want an actual massage I can do it much better there." Cas stroked Dean's cheek, turned his head slightly to kiss him. Dean licked into his mouth and happily filed away Cas's surprised little moans for future reference. 

"Dean—"

Dean took one of Cas's hands and dragged it under water, guiding it between his legs.

"Bed sounds great," he mumbled against Cas's lips. Cas responded by stroking Dean's cock for a moment before letting go and nudging Dean away to stand up.

They got out of the bath quickly and barely even dried off fully, too busy pressing kisses to overheated skin. They migrated towards the bedroom and the made bed, pillows tumbling off of it when they dropped down together.

Dean ground down into Cas who was cradling his face carefully, in stark contrast to his answering hip rolls. With a kiss to Cas's Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat and down his chest, Dean tasted every inch of his skin. A quick flick to one nipple, a pinch to the other and on he traveled over Cas's soft stomach. His tongue followed the trail of hair from his belly button pointing downwards before nudging against Cas's cock with his chin. He pulled back and looked at Cas to make sure he was alright, and he looked wrecked: spit-slick lips, his chest flushed and heaving. He stared at Dean with wide eyes before swallowing audibly.

"You good?" Dean's voice was rough and he was praying for Cas to give him the go ahead, because his flushed and dripping cock, nestled in dark curls, laid rock hard against his stomach and looked far too perfect to not have a very thorough meeting with. 

Thankfully though, Cas nodded and Dean didn't waste a second. He kneeled between Cas's legs, grabbed a hold of his cock and without much preamble licked a broad stripe from root to tip. Cas threw his head back and bunched his hands to fists as Dean got comfy on his belly, parked between Cas's spread thighs and ready to go to town. 

He gave his hand a couple licks, then grabbed Cas again and worked with his hand what his mouth couldn't reach at the same time. He let his lips catch at the ridge under the head, tongued at the sensitive spot before taking him into his mouth. He heard Cas's breathing become more laboured, but he stayed completely still apart from a little squirming. Dean was massively out of practice and was happy Cas wouldn't accidentally choke him with an out-of -control hip thrust or anything. 

He hollowed his cheeks and gave it his all, his one hand twisting on every upstroke that ended where his lips began, his other at Cas's balls. Deepthroating was not (yet) on his list of acquired skills, but he tried to make up for it by letting the head of Cas's cock catch against the roof of his mouth while he pressed his tongue to the vein running on the underside of it. He pulled back and sucked the head, happy to taste everything he could, the salty proof of his arousal a heavenly combination with the weight of him in Dean's mouth. 

"Dean, I. Dean _I’ll_-" Cas mumbled and his fingers found Dean's damp hair to pull him off, and he pulled off for a moment. 

"Come on," Dean said before diving back in. Cas took a weak hold of Dean's hair but had stopped pulling away, and Dean moaned at the feeling. Seemingly encouraged, Cas tugged at the strands slightly, and Dean moaned again. He felt Cas's balls tighten under his hand, and he let his cock slip back out a bit to have the tip resting against his lips. He gave it a strong suck while looking up, meeting Cas's heated gaze. A moment later and Cas came, hot and divine on Dean's tongue. He took it greedily, working Cas through his orgasm and tonguing him clean before the hypersensitivity could set in. Only then he pulled off and sat back, grinning at Cas who just stared at him in what Dean would categorize as post-blowjob heart eyes. 

Dean crawled over him and kissed him briefly, but Cas didn't let go of him. He pulled Dean's head to him and licked into his mouth, and Dean happily participated.

Somehow Cas sneaked his hand towards Dean's lower stomach, which Dean only noticed because Cas had pulled back.

"I'd like to return the favor now," he said with red cheeks and sweat beaded on his forehead. 

Dean's neglected cock gave an excited twitch, and he let himself be maneuvered onto his back. Cas immediately got to work and sucked and bit several impressive marks on Dean's neck and chest. He let his lips glide over Dean's stomach while pinching his nipples softly, and Dean responded with a deep, deep groan. Cas's mouth traveled downwards, passed by his belly button and found his painfully hard cock. Without any hesitation he licked up precome before swallowing him down. His nose was pressed to Dean's untrimmed pubes, and Dean felt self conscious about them but ignored it when Cas ran his fingers through them on his way to his sac. He didn't stop there however, but oh so slowly let his finger move further down. Cas gave him time to say no, but Dean just spread his legs more and tried not to move his hips too much. Cas was treating his cock with the same amount of concentration and passion that he applied to everything he cared about, and Dean felt special to be added to that list. A press against his perineum had him gasping for air, and Cas massaged the spot briefly before moving further back. He pulled off and looked at Dean intently.

"Are you okay with this? Do you want me to continue?" 

Dean could do little but nod enthusiastically, and Cas smirked at him. Cas got up and walked to his dresser, rummaged around and joined Dean with a dark red squeeze bottle. “Cherry lube,” Cas said and Dean laughed breathlessly. Cas sucked Dean back into his mouth, and his now wet fingers retraced their earlier route but continued until finding Dean's hole. A careful press and Cas's index finger found its way inside, and Dean lost it before he could warn Cas. With a string of embarrassing moans he came down Cas's throat, his hands flying to Cas's head to hold on for dear life. 

Cas took it in stride, pulling back slightly but not pulling off. He kept Dean in his mouth after his orgasm faded and he started to soften. Only when Dean squirmed with too much sensitivity did Cas pull off. Dean let his neck relax and his head dropped to the pillow. He felt Cas's warmth leave him for a moment before Cas crawled back onto the mattress and pulled the blanket up with him. Dean turned to the side, burrowed his face in Cas's neck and rested his arm over Cas's stomach. Cas pulled Dean as close to him as possible. His strong arms held him tight and he pressed a series of featherlight kisses to Dean's head. 

They fell asleep tangled together, the warm night breeze whispering through the curtains.

*

They were woken by sunlight and bird song. Dean turned to face Cas and tangled their legs together. He watched him with a small smile on his face and-

A soft rumble. And hunger in his belly, as it seemed. 

He pressed his nose to Cas's neck briefly before kissing him on the cheek. He got up and went naked to the window, looking out on the garden. He stretched his back and neck thoroughly, a slight soreness in them from last night’s activities. 

"Have I ever told you how extraordinarily beautiful you are?" 

Cas's voice was rough from sleep. He stepped behind Dean and slid his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him close. He peppered Dean’s shoulder with butterfly soft kisses. Dean hummed and goosebumps rose over his skin. He turned around and kissed Cas fully, not minding morning breath in the slightest and just adoring how Cas smelled like warmth and sleep. 

"Wanna shower together?" Dean mumbled against Cas's skin. Cas nodded. He pulled Dean to the bathroom and turned on the shower before throwing a look into the mirror.

"Dean," Cas sighed and ran his fingers over the marks on his neck. 

"What?" Dean had briefly checked himself in the mirror in the bedroom, and he had a much more impressive collection of bites and hickeys across his neck and shoulders. "Your grocery dude is gonna know you got laid. What a nightmare." 

Cas rolled his eyes and dragged Dean into the shower. "You're insufferable." Cas kissed him deeply, thoroughly, and Dean melted into his arms. 

They showered long, with wandering hands and caressing lips, before the water slowly started turning cold. They curled up again afterwards, damp and sated, on top of the covers, hunger ignored in favor of more cuddling and kissing. Neither of them complained.

*

"Thanks for picking me up," Dean said as he slid into the passenger seat of Ben's beat up Volkswagen. He had taken a long hot shower, had donned his best pair of dark jeans and a dark green long sleeved button up. A spritz of a cologne he had found in the back of his closet, a bit of gel in his hair, and he had been ready to go. 

"No problem, kid." Ben was wearing his usual jeans and a polo shirt, and he was driving them to a family-owned bakery a couple streets away from Cas’s house. They had ordered the cake almost two weeks in advance, simply because Dean had been way too anxious for something to go wrong, and so he figured the earlier the better. 

Soon enough they pulled into a small parking space in front of the bakery, tucked away in a side street and hugged by older buildings surrounding it. The recommendation to pick this bakery had come from a sweet old lady who had lost her World War II vet husband years ago, but was still attending meetings and afternoon hangouts at the Vsi regularly. 

Dean and Ben walked into the bakery together, a small bell signaling their arrival. A heavy-set old woman greeted them, pointing to a beautiful blue paper box on the cherry wood counter. 

"Come in! You're the only order for today, so this must be yours. I hope you like it, and that the birthday boy will like it." Her eyes were warm and friendly. She gestured for them to come closer and opened the box. 

The cake was round and two tiers, a mix of dark and milk chocolate frosting covered the mousse, strawberries, and soft fluffy cake on the inside. Ben had told Dean to go nuts, and Dean did. He had picked the best kind of every ingredient, and personally selected all the details of the decoration. There were sliced strawberries on top, arranged in a beautiful pattern that seemed to weave in and out of itself. Between them were little floofs of vanilla frosting in every shade of the rainbow. In the center it said in an elegant blue script 'Happy birthday Castiel!'. Dean absolutely loved it, and even though he winced internally at the price, Ben paid it happily and had reassured him before that it was part of the money Castiel's friends had collected. 

A small smile on his face, Dean closed the box and carefully took it. Ben chatted with the baker, and Dean watched the clock. It was almost three, and he didn't want to be late. His worry was for nothing though. The owner seemed to have a sixth sense for stress, and she winked at Dean while saying goodbye to Ben. A few compliments and some general life advice later, they were on the road. Dean had the cake safely on his lap, gripping it tightly but without denting the box. At his feet was a little colorful paper bag with Cas's new kindle. 

He was so preoccupied by worrying if Cas would like his gift, that he didn't notice they had arrived until Ben nudged him. 

"Let's go, kid." 

Dean handed Ben the gift bag, since he wanted to carry the cake himself. They walked to the front door together, and Cas opened it before they could knock. 

"Hello," he said and Dean was momentarily speechless. Cas was wearing black slacks, a blue button down and a fitting black vest. A dark blue tie disappeared under the vest. 

Ben and Dean both looked at each other. 

"Are we underdressed? I feel like we're underdressed." Ben raised an eyebrow and nodded at Cas. "Suits you well though." 

"Thank you." Cas shifted and opened the door wider, gestured for them to come inside. "And no, you're not underdressed. I just never have the occasion to wear this, but it was quite expensive when I bought it. I figured today was an appropriate occasion."

Dean nodded and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "You look great. Happy birthday, sweetheart."

Cas gave him a bashful smile and led the way into the kitchen. He dodged Hannah, who had chosen a nap spot in the middle of the living room floor, and pointed to one side of the room. "I thought we could sit on the porch, but I don't have a table. If you help me carry this out, we can sit at it together. I would have done it on my own, but my back has been hurting and I didn't want to strain it too much." 

Ben nodded and placed the gift bag on the kitchen counter. Dean was confused where that table had come from. He said so to Cas, who didn't seem too surprised at his question. 

"It's the same wood and length as the counters," Cas said. "I never use it to eat though, since I usually sit outside or on the couch. Because of that it's usually covered in either dishes or cooking supplies, and you can't really see it when the porch door is open. See?" He opened the door to demonstrate, and it really did hide the table almost fully. 

"Can we move this table now or do we have to write another shelter mag article about tables and counters," Ben grumbled and both Dean and Cas rolled their eyes at him. They caught each other doing it and laughed. 

Together they carried the table outside, then brought out plates, cutlery and the decor. Cas placed a vase with freshly cut flowers in the middle of the table and arranged everything neatly around it.

Dean and Cas both sat down on the outdoor sofa, but Ben grumbled something about personal space and went back into the house. He reappeared a moment later carrying the caramel colored armchair from Cas's living room.

"You're welcome to make yourself comfortable, but if you get any soil on the chair I _will_ make you clean it." 

Cas looked so serious that Dean was concerned for a moment, before seeing Ben's mock stare back at him. His eyes flicked to Dean for a second and he winked before staring at Cas again.

"I told you, those were crumbs from the muffins we had," Ben protested. 

“Then I invite you to not crumble over my chair.” Cas raised an eyebrow, but the hint of a smile played around his lips.

"Can do.” Ben grinned at him. 

Dean opened the cake box carefully, took the cake out and placed it on a platter. He stuck in eight candles, one between each of the colorful frosting drops, and lit them with his Zippo. Cas was beaming at him, and Dean couldn't believe how beautiful he was. 

His hair was unruly, the dark tufts sticking up every which way, even though Dean had seen him use a comb on it after Cas had left them alone briefly. His clothes looked soft, his lips chapped but pulled into a beautiful smile. Hannah had picked a new nap spot, curled up between Cas's bare feet. He kept sneaking glances at her, touched her warm ears or silky fur. 

Dean loved him so much he felt like he was choking. 

“Those candles are gonna start dropping wax all over the cake soon,” Ben said.

Dean snapped out of it and took Cas's hand under the table. 

“Time to make a wish," he said and Cas looked puzzled, as if it hadn't occurred to him at all before to think of something. 

A moment passed, and Cas leaned forward with determination on his face. A deep breath and the candles were out, Ben and Dean cheering like children. 

"Do you want to have cake first or do you want to open your gift?" Dean asked and Cas looked between him and Ben with surprise on his face. 

"My gift?" 

Dean was surprised that no one heard the tear going through his heart when Cas asked this. He had been fully not expecting to get anything, would've been content just with Ben and Dean showing up. 

"Yes dummy, your gift." Ben rolled his eyes and placed the gift bag on the table. "Go nuts, kid." 

Dean watched Cas look at the gift like it would bite him, so Dean nudged his shoulder gently. "Come on, Cas. Open it."

Cas opened it with gentle hands. When he saw the Kindle, he stilled. 

"Turn it on!" Dean grinned at him and Cas gave him a helpless look, so he reached over and pressed the power button. The home screen appeared and Dean pointed to it. 

“Everyone from the VSI made a list of their favorite books, so that’s in there,” Dean pointed at the gift bag, “and some other stuff we thought you might like to read. There's also a gift card for a cover because we weren't sure which one you'd like. It's waterproof too, so you can read it in the bathtub."

Cas seemed unsure what to say. He turned the Kindle over in his hands, then reached into the bag and unfolded the list of favorite books of everyone he knew. He carefully placed the Kindle on the table and looked at his lap for a moment, before meeting Ben’s and then Dean’s eye. 

“Thank you,” Cas said with a beautiful smile and bright eyes. “This is truly wonderful. And thank you for the list of book recommendations, that means a lot to me. Thank you both,” he repeated and Dean took his hand and squeezed it. 

“Well,” Ben said, “thank us by cutting that cake, will you? It’s been staring at me for an hour and I can’t take it anymore.”

Cas and Dean both laughed. Within a minute everyone had a massive piece of cake on their plate, Dean had frosting on his face already, and Ben was laughing so hard that Hannah fled from under the table. 

*

Dean enjoyed the hot water running over his back, relaxing for a moment before grabbing the small bottle of lube he had brought in the bathroom with him. He wanted to surprise Cas with some Grade A romantic birthday sex, and so he was taking the necessary precautions. He prepped himself quickly and without much teasing, not wanting to rile himself up too much.

He toweled off afterwards, putting on some clean pajamas Cas had loaned him, and stepped back into the bedroom. Cas was sitting on the bed reading, stunning in the warm light of about a dozen candles. The room was warm, the windows open and the faint smell of vanilla in the air. 

Dean walked over to Cas, plucked the Kindle out of his hands and nosed along his cheek before kissing him. He crawled into Cas’s lap, fingers tangled in the soft dark brown hair and body pressed to Cas’s.

Their kisses were deep but unhurried; clothes landed on the floor one by one until they were both fully undressed. They changed positions; Cas lay on top of Dean, sucking bruises into his neck while Dean held onto him tightly, hips moving against Cas’s in a slow rhythm. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed and pulled Cas’s face back up to kiss him, sweeping his tongue into Cas’s mouth. Dean tasted every breathy sound Cas made just for him. 

“Yes, love.” Cas kissed along his jaw and snuck one hand between them to stroke Dean slowly. 

Dean spread his legs and then wrapped them around Cas’s hips, his hands grabbing onto Cas’s ass and pulling him close. Cas lifted his head from his nibbling on Dean’s ear to look at him. 

“Do you want to—”

“Yes. Fuck me,” Dean added almost shyly and Cas kissed him again. He then reached over to the nightstand and grabbed lube and a condom from the drawer, placed them next to Dean’s hip and started kissing his way down Dean’s body. Dean turned his head and burst out laughing.

“Is that the condom I gave to you?” He nudged the obnoxiously yellow foil packet and felt Cas laughter vibrate against his chest. 

“It is,” Cas said. “I didn’t really have a chance to use it.”

Dean smirked.

Cas then continued with his mission, paying a bit more attention to a nipple here, teasing breaths over the tip of Dean’s cock there. Cas settled down on his knees between Dean’s legs, nudging them apart slightly more before stroking him a few times again. He moved his hand further down slowly, caressing his balls before stroking over his perineum and then snapping his head up so quickly that Dean was concerned for a moment.

Dean gave him a lascivious smile. 

“I may or may not have hidden some lube in your bathroom after last time, and—” Dean interrupted himself with a toe-curling groan when Cas easily slipped a finger inside him. 

“That’s why you wanted to shower alone,” Cas murmured while adding more lube to his fingers.

“Surprise?” Dean grinned at him before closing his eyes again. Cas hovered over Dean and kissed him, bit his bottom lip gently and dropped his head briefly when one of Dean’s hands found his dripping cock. 

“This is going to be over quickly if you don’t stop doing that,” Cas said and raised an eyebrow at Dean’s answering smirk, but Dean let go of his cock. He brought his hand up to his lips and licked his fingers slowly clean. Cas just made a noise in return and crawled back down to put all of his attention towards prepping Dean fully. 

Dean, meanwhile, tried to let go as much as possible, relaxing into the soft pillows while Cas worked him open. Hours seemed to pass before Cas grabbed the condom and leaned over Dean to kiss him slowly.

“Ready?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded and grabbed the back of Cas’s neck, pulled his face close and wrapped his legs around his hips. Cas looked at him without moving for a moment, the flicker of the candles carving the scars on his cheeks deeper, but nothing could actually distract Dean from looking into Cas’s eyes. Cas looked at him with so much warmth, and Dean felt safe in his embrace. 

Then, Cas oh so slowly positioned himself before pushing in. They were still looking at each other, but Dean had to close his eyes at the intimacy. He focused on his breathing until Cas was buried in him, their bodies touching everywhere. Cas kissed him once, twice, before burying his face in Dean’s neck. He slowly pulled back, then pushed back in. 

Cas set an agonizingly slow rhythm, but with a depth that had Dean desperate for more every time he disappeared a little. Dean met Cas for every thrust and buried his hands in Cas’s soft hair, where he was making small noises against Dean’s throat. Cas sped up slowly, and Dean didn’t try to hold back his breaths and groans at it, quickly feeling his orgasm approach. As if reading his thoughts, Cas lifted his head and brushed his lips against Dean’s.

“Are you close?” Cas asked, and Dean whispered an affirmative back at him. 

Cas reached between them, and with a few strokes to his cock Dean was coming, long and hard, and clenched down on Cas so hard Cas’s mouth fell open. His hips stuttered briefly before stilling deep within Dean. They clung to each other as they came, sharing kisses. After a few minutes Cas pulled out slowly, tied off the condom and just dropped it on the floor. He pulled Dean to him, hugging him tight and Dean wound his arms around him. Together they waited for their breathing to slow, the flickering of the candles dipping everything into golden warmth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional notes regarding content (no spoiler): referenced past homphobia (no slur words), referenced past hate crime (no gore)
> 
> Additional notes regarding content (WITH spoiler):
> 
> We hear about Cas's backstory during their second date. 
> 
> Cas was attacked leaving a gay bar, he fell into glass and  
has two deep scars on his face (temple-cheek area) because of this. There are no lasting health issues, he's fully fine physically and we do not talk about this in more detail at a later point (except referencing PTSD briefly and talking about Cas not leaving his house).


	3. Arbutus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARBUTUS- Thee Only Do I Love

Dean was wiping down the counter next to his fridge when his phone rang. He threw the damp rag into the sink and answered without looking.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, Dean.” Sam’s voice was small, and Dean immediately wanted to hang up. Sam never called conversationally. The last time they talked had been to plan Dean’s trip to California. They never texted outside of that.

“Sam. You okay?”

“Yes, I am. Dean, listen. About Thanksgiving...I know we said you’d drive here but uhm. I’ve been seeing someone, and she asked me to go home with her over the holidays to meet her family.”

Dean said nothing, but sat down on the kitchen floor and stared at the lime green cupboards in front of him. 

“I told her yes.” Sam sighed. “I’m really sorry. I know we planned this, but maybe we could change it to Christmas instead? I don’t want her family to think—”

“What?” Dean couldn’t stop himself from interrupting Sam. “Let them think what? That you give a shit about your own family?”

“Dean, stop!” Sam bit back. “I didn’t want them to think that I’m not taking this relationship seriously. I thought if you and I could reschedule for Christmas, everyone’s happy?”

“Well, not me, Sam. I already put in the request for time off, and started fixing up Baby for it.”

“Dean, I—” Sam interrupted himself this time, and Dean felt sick.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I really want this to work out, and if you really want to I could maybe fly in some time before Christmas?” 

Dean could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. 

He doesn’t actually want to see you, Dean’s brain said.

He’s ashamed of you, it said.

You’re worthless, his father said.

“Bye, Sam.” Dean hung up, turned his phone off and gently placed it face down on the scuffed tiles. He felt no rage, only empty. Sam was right, after all. Why would Sam spend Thanksgiving with his own family? A dead mother, a dead father, and a sorry excuse for an older brother who couldn’t even take care of himself.

Dean had been slowly putting money towards fixing small things with the Impala to get her ready for the long drive, had considered asking Cas to come with him in a brief moment of complete insanity. He hadn’t mentioned any of it to Sam yet, but it hurt him deeply that it had apparently been for nothing.

His joints protested as he stood and dragged himself to his liquor stash. He blindly grabbed the first bottle—the half full, awful whiskey he had been drinking the night Cas called him a cab—and took a swig, shuffling to his bedroom.

He fell asleep with the bottle in his arms.

*

Days go by, a week, two weeks, three weeks. It’s October, Dean was still drunk in the morning from the night before and drank more during the day, but not on days he went to Cas’s house. He brushed his teeth and showered for him, he slipped on a mask and found comfort in Cas’s hugs and laugh, in his lopsided smile and warm hands. Even Hannah was kind to him, when before she had pretty much ignored him whenever she could. 

He’d become more quiet, and he knew Cas knew, but not the reason for it. A whole lot of ignorance and denial has been pulling him through his day to day, barely holding on though. Cas took care of him like always, packed him lunch that Dean sometimes threw back up in the breakroom because he was too hungover to eat. He hurt so badly, wanted nothing more than to be okay and curl up with Cas. 

Almost four weeks later his phone screamed him awake at seven in the morning, and he almost flung it across the room. A shower barely did anything to make him feel more awake. Three texts from Cas he’d never opened or responded to sat heavily in his stomach. He gulped down the disgusting coffee from his old coffee machine, then checked the kitchen cabinets for his liquor stash. They were empty. 

He looked in the living room, his night stand, his closet, even the bathroom, but there was nothing. He ground his teeth together, then pawed through pockets and drawers for some cash. He'd have to buy some alcohol before work, or else he wouldn't get through the day. 

He stopped at a gas station he'd never been to before, and picked out two bottles of Jack. Dead leaves crunched under his boots as he walked back to his car, took a few sips in the car, and went to work. 

Brain on standby as he went through the motions of changing someone's oil, he hit his head on the hood and dislocated the prop rod. He could only watch in seeming slow motion as the heavy lid fell shut and closed on his right hand. Pain exploded through his fingers, and he heard a loud clattering noise. 

"Dean!" Tim was by his side in an instant. He carefully lifted the lid and looked at Dean’s hand. 

"God damn it," Tim said and Dean just looked at him dumbly.

Tim leaned past him to take the funnel out of his other hand, but paused when he was closest to Dean. He looked at him, a scowl forming on his face. 

"Dean, are you drunk?" 

"Nah," Dean said and Tim just raised an eyebrow. 

"Maybe a bit," Dean retaliated and held his thumb and forefinger close together. "Bit."

"I can't believe this," Tim muttered, but before he could say anything else a different voice boomed across the garage.

"Winchester! What did you do?" His boss, a gruff old man, strode towards them. He took one look at Dean's hand and shook his head. "Aw, man. Come on, son, we'll clean that up in my office." 

Dean followed him, his fingers throbbing. He was ashamed of messing up yet again at work. They entered a small office stuffed to the ceiling with crooked shelves filled with paper. A small desk sat in the middle, with two mismatched chairs in front of it. 

"Alright, son, sit down." 

Dean did, placed a first aid kit on the desk, then leaned closer to inspect his hand. 

"Did you get hurt anywhere else?" He was carefully wiping away some blood, and it burned.

"No, sir." 

As soon as he said those words, his boss looked him straight in the eyes. "Boy, you smell like you fell into a beer keg. You know you can't come to work drunk, right?" 

Dean just blinked at him. 

His silence was met with a sigh. "Dean, I see something’s wrong. It's okay if that's the case, but you can't come to work like this. You're risking your own safety and the safety of everyone else."

Dean nodded and hissed at the burn of disinfectant. His boss shook his head at him again, and placed Dean's hand back on his own lap. 

"You can't come back here until you've figured out whatever is wrong. I know this isn't the first time you came here drunk. I'm not blind, kid. Take time, get better, but you can't work here until you do. I can't and won't risk anyone's health."

Dean looked up at him. "You're firing me?" 

"You'll have a job here when you come back, but this won't work right now. I'm sorry. Do you want me to drive you home? Or to the hospital because of your hand? I really think you should see a doctor for this." 

“I—” Dean started, but he gave up immediately. Mostly, he was too tired, but he really didn't want to keep sitting in the atmosphere of pure disappointment that had been created in the last ten minutes. “No thanks, I’ll manage,” he said, got up and left the office. He walked to his locker, grabbed his jacket, phone and keys, and left. He didn't look at the others, didn't react to his name being called. He exited the building and sat in his car. The glove compartment held this morning's bottle. A long swig and off he went, forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings while he drove. Ten minutes later found him in front of Cas’s house. He got out and knocked, knocked again and then shot Cas a text.

The door opened a minute later to a very disheveled looking Cas in a sweat-stained green shirt and track pants. 

“Dean? Why aren’t you at work? What’s wrong?” Concern written all over his face, Cas pulled him inside and closed the door. He walked him to the couch and gently nudged him so Dean would sit down, before sitting down on the coffee table himself, facing Dean.

“Don’t have work,” Dean said. He sighed, and Cas didn’t control his own face quick enough to stay inconspicuous. Dean grimaced.

“I reek, I know. Sorry.” 

Cas shook his head at him, taking Dean’s left hand and holding it between his. “You smell like alcohol.”

Dean nodded.

“Dean, it’s eleven in the morning.”

Dean nodded again.

“Did you quit your job? Can you tell me what happened?” Cas was walking the line between concern and being intrusive, and Dean let it happen for now. 

“Got fired. I hurt my hand, Tim helped and he could tell right away. Sent me to my boss, he fired me. Said he knew for a while now.” Dean didn’t look at Cas, who immediately let go of his hand, looked at it and then grabbed for his right. 

“Oh, Dean,” he said, with clear pity Dean felt white hot in his face. 

Dean said nothing to that, only gritted his teeth a little as Cas turned his hand around carefully and looked at it. “I’m not sure if this is broken,” Cas said. “You should really go to the ER with this. There are so many nerves in your hand, you need to find out if anything’s damaged.” Cas went into the kitchen briefly, and reappeared with his first aid kit. He carefully applied an antiseptic to Dean’s hand before wrapping it in gauze. 

As soon as Cas was done, Dean took his hand back. Cas let him. After a moment of silence, Dean spoke again.

“Don’t know why I’m not freaking out. I should. I owe my landlord anyways, Baby needs a mirror fixed that I meant to get done at the garage. I have like, sixteen dollars for the next two weeks.” He looks up at Cas. “I can’t pay my rent. I’ll have to sleep in Baby, which is honestly shit timing with winter and all, but if I maybe, uhm. If I can borrow one of your wool blankets? I think I can do it until I find something new. I will. I gotta,” Dean mumbled and lifted his hand to rub over his face, before wincing at the pain and leaving it where it was.

“Dean, you’re not going to be homeless. You can stay with me.” Cas stroked his thumb over Dean’s cheek. Dean refused to lean into the touch. 

“Don’t think moving in together should be because of me being a general failure of a person,” Dean said and Cas frowned. 

“I’m not asking you to move in with me as the next step in our relationship,” Cas said and Dean raised an eyebrow. 

“Really,” Dean said.

“_Yes_. I’m offering you a place to stay until you can figure out what to do. I’m your partner, Dean. I’m not going to let you sleep in your car when I have an entire house I can offer you to stay in.”

“Cas, I don’t—” 

“Under one condition.” 

“Yes?”

Cas hesitated. He leaned forward and kissed Dean, lingering for a moment before pulling back. 

“We’ll get you the help you need.” 

Dean started to protest, but Cas held up a hand. 

“You’re going to ruin your health, you’re going to get worse and I will not stand here and do nothing. I know people that can really help you, and you should accept that help. You need to change some things if you want to get healthy again, which I know you do. Please.”

Dean felt anger rising in his throat, at the same time as tears sprung into his eyes. 

“Change, huh?” Dean stood up and stepped away from Cas, switching between staring at Cas and staring at the floor. “You were the first one that didn’t want me to change. You just accepted me, fucked up and all. Thought you were different,” he said and choked on the words.

“Dean, no-” Cas reached for him, but Dean stepped back. 

“I don’t want to change you,” Cas said. “Nothing about you.”

“Sure don’t sound like it.”

“There’s nothing about who you are that I want to change,” Cas almost yelled and he stared at Dean so intently that he couldn't help but stare back. “I_ love_ you for who you are, exactly who you are. The only thing I want to _help_ you change, is getting healthy. Not for me, but for you. Please, Dean.” 

Dean’s chest was heaving with the heavy breaths he was taking, his head swimming and his heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to shrivel up and hide, or soar high up with what Cas had just said.

“My dad said the same. Every time he needed me to do something, he said he was proud of me, told me he needed me, that I was important, and I ate that shit straight up. I can’t believe you’re doing the same now.”

“But I’m not!” Cas looked like he was going to burst into flames and start crying any second now, and Dean was vibrating with hurt and anger. What the fuck was happening here?

“I’ll just,” Dean said. “I’ll go.”

Cas walked towards him and reached out. Dean let him touch his arm, but he pulled back after a moment. He shook his head and ignored how bright Cas’s eyes were, ignored the burn of his own tears. With long strides he walked to the door, ignored Cas calling after him, walked to his car, drove away. He figured he’d start trying to sell some of his stuff soon, get some cash in. At some point he pulled over, fought against tears, then continued to drive to his apartment.

*

It had been a week since their fight. Dean was ignoring Cas's calls, and only texted back when he was going to bed. It was the most he was capable of doing; it was a check-in, a 'thank you for caring but I just can't right now'. The last thing he had bought was a loaf of bread, his choice between booze or food. He didn't choose the latter often enough. Dean felt sick, he was tired and heartbroken and didn't know how to fix the situation. The conversation with Cas had brought back things with his dad in full force. He was having nightmares that left him sweating and shaking long before the sun would come up. Cas was sending him pictures of Hannah once a day, a photo of an indoor plant he had gotten and nursed back to health, a new poster with a bee-related pun. He was giving him space at the same time as saying hello; even though they didn't actually talk. 

As he was getting ready for bed, he found a book he had gotten for Sam when their Thanksgiving plans were set. _Cheap, quick, and easy: A student's meal plan guide_ was lying to his feet, tumbled down from a laundry basket that had gone untouched for months. In that moment it occurred to him why he hadn't tried harder to keep their plans, to change Sam's mind, to find a solution. Dean was missing him so much it hurt him physically. 

He flung the book across the room, stumbled over a shoe, and hurt his knee falling down. What felt like years later, he got back up and stumbled into the living room, bumped into half-full moving boxes and collapsed on his sofa. A mostly fully whiskey bottle sat next to him, on the cushion he sometimes imagined Cas on if he would be able to visit him. He took a swig, then another, one more. 

Time seemed syrupy-thick, the hands of the clock on the wall creeping along slowly. Dean stared at it, shaking his head a little every time his eyes started to become unfocused. He really wanted to talk to Cas, see what he was up to. Today’s picture was Hannah sleeping on the porch, Cas’s hand visible in the picture as he was stroking her back. Dean had ached so much looking at it he forgot how to breathe for a moment. He contemplated how much work it would be to go to the bedroom to fetch his phone from the nightstand, then decided it was worth the effort. He got up slowly, winced as he put too much pressure on his hurt hand, and rounded the couch towards the ajar bedroom door. He steadied himself by touching the sofa and wall as he went, but miscalculated grossly when stepping over a stray dirty plate on the bedroom floor. His knee did a weird thing. He stepped _on_ the plate instead of around it, fell reaching for the nightstand, and successfully managed to grab one of its drawers to pull the whole thing towards him. 

What that got him, was laying on his stomach, nightstand upended over his head (fucking _ow_), and his foot throbbing for some reason. Had there been cutlery on that plate? He couldn’t remember. One victory though, was that his phone was right next to his face. He grabbed it with his left hand and ignored the pain searing through it as he tapped half-blindly. When he heard the ringing tone, he sighed.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice was his usual gravelly velvet, and there was soft music in the background.

“‘s,” Dean said.

“Are you alright? Why did you call?” Cas sounded worried now. 

“Fell,” Dean pressed out. He tried to move his arm further, but now his head hurt too and he stopped trying. “C’n you. Help.” 

“You fell? You need help?” Cas’s voice started to get that edge it usually had when he was stressed about something, and Dean felt awful for upsetting him. 

“Dean, I’ll be there. Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? I’m calling a taxi; I need at least twenty minutes, I’m sorry. Is there anyone with a key you can call?” There were clattering noises in the background, a stray curse from Cas, rustling of clothes. 

“No,” Dean breathed. 

“Okay, Dean. I’ll call the taxi now. If I call you back, can you accept the call? Can you move?” 

“Mhmm,” was the muffled groan Dean gave as an answer. Cas seemed to take it as an affirmative.

“Okay. I’ll call you back, give me a minute. If you can’t pick up, I’ll be there soon, alright?”

Dean didn't reply, and closed his eyes when he heard the call disconnect.

Time seemed to become even thicker now that he couldn’t see it. His phone’s screen was dark, no wall clock in the bedroom, his vision was taken up by dirty carpet and a sock he had been looking for. 

After a truly immeasurable amount of time, he heard noises at his apartment door. Scraping? No, some kind of clattering? He spent time deciding on the perfect word and discarded each one, before settling on rummaging. Perfect.

Rummaging now from _inside _his apartment. He frowned.

“Dean?” 

He knew that voice!

“Dean? Where are you?” Heavy steps came closer and stopped. “Aw, hell.” 

The upended nightstand was set back to its usual place. Then, strong hands grabbed him and bodily lifted him up until he was deposited in a slouching position on the edge of his bed. When he opened his eyes, Ben looked back at him.

“What happened, boy?” Ben didn’t seem angry, merely confused and slightly irritated. 

“Fell,” Dean replied to that, and Ben rolled his eyes.

“Brilliant, thanks for the info.” He checked Dean over, then did a double take. “Did you _step_ on a_ knife_?”

Ah, so that’s why his foot hurt. Dean watched Ben take his sock off carefully, then lift Dean’s foot to examine it. 

“You really did.” Ben shook his head and gingerly placed Dean’s foot back on the floor. His eyes landed on Dean’s left hand, and his gaze sharpened. “What the fuck happened to your hand?”

Dean looked at his own hand then, placed on the ratty comforter like an afterthought. It was more green-ish by now, swollen with the deep cut across the back of it crusted over. “Dean, this would’ve needed medical attention right away,” Ben said as he squatted down in front of him. “What happened to you?”

Dean shrugged. “Shit,” he replied and laughed. Ben just shook his head. 

“We’re going to Urgent Care. Do you have some flip flops maybe? Don’t think you can get your foot into a shoe like that.” Ben started looking around, but Dean shook his head no.

“Don’t think so,” he said. 

“Alright then.” Ben rose up again. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Dean under the armpits to put him on his feet (foot, more aptly), then laid Dean’s right arm over his own shoulder. 

“Cas,” Dean said. “Cas wanted to come. Where’s Cas?”

“Cas called me,” Ben said. “He knows I do lockpicking as a hobby, and—oh shut it,” he said as Dean laughed. “And I told him I’d drive over since you live like, three blocks from me. I’ll text him where we’re going. He can meet us there.” 

“Okay,” Dean said and continued to hobble next to Ben. They slowly made their way to the apartment door where Ben left him for a moment to grab Dean’s phone and wallet as well as a dark blue corduroy jacket (which was actually Cas’s). Ben locked Dean’s door, then together they creeped down the stairs and outside to Ben’s car. 

Dean had to be buckled in by Ben; his shoulders hurt and he was rather uncoordinated with his right hand. 

After that was done, Ben tapped away on his phone before starting the drive to the hospital. He turned the radio on but kept the volume low, and threw Dean a few glances.

“You alright, Dean?” 

“I don’t think so,” Dean said, and that was probably the first time in a long time he’d been truly honest with himself and with the people around him. 

“Okay,” Ben said. “You wanna talk ‘bout that?”

Dean thought about it. The streets were silent, there was barely any traffic at this time of the night. They were at an intersection, the_ tickticktick_ of the car’s blinker interrupting Dean’s thoughts over and over until he gave up on forming anything coherent in his head. 

“I’m not sure how,” Dean settled on. “I don’t really do the feelings thing.” 

“The way you look at Cas disagrees with that,” Ben said.

Dean snorted. “Smartass. That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know.” Ben sighed and pulled into the brightly lit hospital parking lot. He turned the car off, but didn’t make a move to get out. 

“Cas loves you,” Ben said, and Dean closed his eyes. “He didn’t tell me, and he don’t need to. It’s written all over your face, too. But,” Ben continued, and Dean dreaded what was coming next, undoubtedly a conversation about how Dean wasn’t good enough for Cas, how this evening proved that. “Love doesn’t solve every problem in the world. If you got stuff you don’t deal with, stuff that you can’t deal with, then you should go and ask for help. There is help. Trust me when I say that I’ve seen hopeless cases, and boy, you ain’t one of them.” 

Dean opened his eyes and looked at Ben, who met his gaze with certainty on his face. 

“How do you know?” Dean asked.

“Know what? That you got more baggage than a damn airline handles in a damn month? Call it intuition,” Ben said and rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding. You smell like a whole ass bar, I’ve read your records, and I’m not blind or stupid. I’ve been doing this for a long time, Dean, and I know the signs.” 

“Of what?” 

“Depression, alcoholism, maybe a good dosage of old-school trauma as well. Nothing unheard of, nothing that can’t be worked on.” Ben patted Dean’s knee. “I’m familiar with at least some of that, and I’ll be damned to not tell you that it gets better, and that there’s support out there for you. First though, let’s get you inside before there’s more dents in your head,” Ben said. 

Dean wanted to reply in a snarky way, be rude and closed off before he realized that Ben was trying to not pull him too far into it, to just give him a baseline to work off of, and he was giving him the opportunity to end the conversation on his own terms by accepting the joke or not.

“Alright,” Dean said. He was too tired to actually have this conversation with Ben, and even though he had sobered up some in the past hour, he didn’t feel up for it. 

Ben got out the car, opened Dean’s door and helped him get up. Together they hobbled towards the entrance, the lights so bright Dean squinted against them as they came closer. The double doors opened with a _woosh_ and the strong smell of antiseptic drowned Dean’s senses. He hated doctors, hospitals, anything that fell into these categories.

He was deposited on a chair in the waiting room while Ben talked to the nurses at the desk for a minute, before coming back to Dean. 

“Uhm,” Dean said. Ben looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “How exactly is Cas coming here?”

Ben snorted a laugh. “I was wondering when you’d be surprised about that. This is the hospital he was treated at, so he knows pretty much everyone here. Apart from that it’s generally pretty safe,” Ben said and nodded to a nearby security guard doing his rounds. “He doesn’t get triggered leaving the house alone. It’s other stuff, but the details of that he’s still kind of figuring out he said. Didn’t surprise me that he’d try and come here ASAP, though.” 

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t believe Cas would risk this, and at the same time it was no surprise at all. He really, really couldn’t believe his luck of having Cas. 

A nurse interrupted his musings, brought him for an x-ray of his hand, and someone else checked his head for more serious injuries. He was deemed mostly fine and deposited in his own little bay with Ben sitting on a chair next to him, thumbing through his phone.

“Dean!” Cas spotted them and walked over briskly. He took one look at the ice pack on Dean’s head and his hurt hand cradled in his lap, and hugged him tightly. Dean relaxed into it, didn’t move much aside from turning his head to bury his nose in Cas’s hoodie. 

“What happened?” Cas pulled back, but kept one hand on the side of Dean’s neck. He stroked his skin softly and Dean’s heart was doing somersaults at all the love in Cas’s eyes. He hadn’t seen him in weeks and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed staring into his baby blues.

“I tripped,” Dean said and raised his naked foot, “and managed to overturn my nightstand. Hit me in the head, hurt my hand more and hurt my foot. Great night.”

Cas shook his head slowly. “You infuriating man,” he said. “What did they tell you? Is your hand broken? Are you hurt?” 

Dean shrugged. “They took an x-ray of my hand, said I don’t even have a concussion, just a big fucking egg on my head, and I’m gonna get stitches for my foot.” He wiggled his toes. 

Ben laughed and he and Cas exchanged a look Dean couldn’t decipher. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Dean asked Cas, and Ben suddenly got up and walked away mumbling about coffee. 

“I was never truly mad at you, Dean.” Cas sat down next to him and slid his hand in Dean’s. “I was upset because you’re ill, and I felt like I failed at trying to help you, and that I somehow communicated to you that who you are is the problem. I researched it,” Cas said and Dean couldn’t help but smile at that, “and studies suggest that I really approached that conversation in the wrong way. I’m sorry for upsetting you and accusing you of things, that wasn’t my intention. I was so scared of you getting sicker, or getting hurt.” 

Dean closed his eyes against the guilt of letting Cas down, of worrying him this much. He couldn’t help but imagine if the roles were reversed, and he felt the fear for Cas’s health like a stab to his heart. 

Cas squeezed his hand before adding, “But I did mean what I said.” He smiled his special smile, the one that only sat in his eyes and Dean felt like drowning in it every time he saw it. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I love you,” Cas replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. 

Dean liked the feeling of hearing those words, the way the buried themselves deeply in his chest, sending warmth through his body and making his fingertips tingle to reach out to Cas. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Cas’s, looked at him before tilting his head slightly to press a feathery light kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you,” Dean said, and almost laughed at the comedic irony of replying with _that_ to a love confession. “For trying to help me, I mean. I know I’m stubborn, and you didn’t stop trying or cut me out because we fought.” Dean had to pause and breathe, memories of past relationships trying to reach the surface of his mind, but he resolutely shoved them back in their box and stowed them far away. 

“I know I’m messed up. ‘s not like I’m in massive denial over that or anything. There’s just—” Dean interrupted himself, swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “There’s just a lot of.. stuff. I ignore it most of the time, but lately it’s been getting worse, and I don’t really know why or how to deal with it. So I just didn’t...deal with it, I guess.” 

Dean had been staring at nothing in particular while talking, but turned his head when he felt Cas’s hand on his cheek. Cas looked at him with so much pain and understanding in his eyes, that Dean almost collapsed then and there. How he could have thought that Cas had anything but Dean’s mental and physical health in mind when they had that conversation, was beyond him now. He really loved him, for everything he had done for Dean and for trusting him so fully. His throat felt too tight though to say any of that, so he just kissed him again. 

Ben and a doctor found them with Cas holding Dean, stroking his hair softly and murmuring about Hannah and his garden. Cas looked up and alerted Dean to their visitors. 

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the doctor said and shook first Dean’s hand, then Cas’s. “How are we doing?” 

“Okay, I think,” Dean said. “My head hurts. And my foot. And my hand, actually.” 

The doctor raised an eyebrow, then laughed good-naturedly. “That doesn’t surprise me, Mr Winchester.”

“Dean, please.”

“Dean then.” The doctor showed him the x-ray of Dean’s hand on a tablet. “Here and here is where I would’ve expected it to be broken after the type of injury you sustained, but luckily all you did was sprain your little finger. I’m guessing that happened when you fell.” 

Dean nodded. 

“Well, Dean, we’re just going to clean the wound, stitch it back up and do the same with your foot. Stellar job on that, by the way, injuries there are quite annoying when healing. Prepare for a lot of itching.” The doctor closed the tablet’s cover and nodded at Dean. “Nurse Alex will come by in a few minutes to do the sutures. Alex will administer a local anesthetic for it, so don’t worry about pain or anything.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Dean said.

“No problem, Dean. Take care.” The doctor smiled at everyone before leaving, his lab coat fluttering behind him. 

"Alright then," Ben said and got up. "Is it fine if I leave you two? I have a crap ton of stuff to do tomorrow, and if you don't need me I'd like to go home. Also because my wife will murder me otherwise." He winked at Dean. 

"I took a taxi, and Dean will come home with me. So yes, go home Ben. And thank you for your help." Cas and Ben hugged briefly before Ben turned to Dean.

"See you next week," he said and hugged Dean too. 

"Thanks," Dean mumbled. "Sorry for ruining your night, though." 

Ben shook his head. "You didn't, kid. I'm here when you need me. For anything," he added, and Dean knew he was referring to their conversation in the car. 

"I might just take you up on that," Dean said, and Ben practically beamed at him. 

With another nod to Cas he left, and Dean looked at Cas. Dean opened his mouth, closed it again. Took a deep breath, held it, let it out.

"Ben talked to me on the way here," Dean said. "About having problems, and that he knows the feeling. It kind of got me thinking that if someone like him knows what it's like, and he seems fine, then maybe I can get there too." 

Dean smiled weakly as Cas was visibly restraining himself to not interrupt. 

"I don't want to end up like my dad. I don't want to hurt people that I love." Dean watched a nurse jog past them.

"I keep thinking of my mom, and how she would want me to be healthy, and happy, I think. And to be there for Sam, and I can't do that when I'm unemployed and drunk half the time. Do you think we can figure this out?" He looked at Cas who nodded immediately. 

"Yes," Cas said. "We'll find you a therapist—" Dean winced, "and a good physician, and we'll get you to a better and healthier place. I promise. I will be there with you, as long as you want me." 

Dean swallowed, then nodded. "That's gonna be a long ass time, you know that right?" 

Cas grinned at him, and kissed his forehead. "I'm counting on it."

The nurse came by a few minutes later. She injected a local anesthetic into Dean’s hand and foot (he did not hold Cas's hand during that, thank you very much), and started stitching him up shortly after. His hand looked miles better when it was done, still swollen and bruised but less gore-y. They thanked her when she was done, and she sent him off with instructions to keep the wounds clean and to check on them regularly. 

They were sitting outside on a bench, breathing the damp night air and watching the rain being illuminated from the many lights in the hospital entrance area. Dean grabbed Cas's hand and turned his head towards him.

"What now?" Dean asked. 

"Let's go home."

*

They called a taxi, stopped at Dean’s apartment to pack a few bags before driving to Cas’s house. Cas helped Dean upstairs and unpacked the clothes they brought into his dresser, while Dean waited for Cas’s laptop to boot up. As soon as Skype popped up, he opened a chat window and typed with shaking fingers.

**hey can we skype**

_Uhm_

_Sure, give me five minutes._

Cas gave him a quick kiss before going downstairs to feed Hannah and lock the front door. Dean waited for Skype to do its thing, before the loud ringing of an incoming call almost scared him to death. He accepted, and Sam’s face filled the screen. 

“Hey,” Sam said. He yawned before doing a double take. “Are you _bleeding_?”

“Ah, not anymore,” Dean said. “I fell earlier, but I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Sam looked confused now. “Not that I mind, but why did you want to call so late? I have work tomorrow since I don’t have classes, so if it’s not super important could we reschedule?” 

Dean swallowed and was about to cave when he saw Cas had come back in. Dean looked at him, and Cas shook his head. 

“It actually is important,” Dean said. Sam nodded.

Cas walked over and sat next to Dean on the bed, leaning against the headboard but out of view from the webcam. 

“Sam, this is Cas,” Dean said and moved the laptop so Cas was visible. 

Cas gave a little wave. “Hello,” he said. 

“Hi, Cas,” Sam said. 

“He’s my boyfriend.” Dean tangled their hands off-screen. “He uhm. There was—is some stuff, and he’s been helping me with it. And I wanted to talk to you about it too, because—” Dean interrupted himself. He was not going to start crying in front of his baby brother at midnight over Skype. 

“Dean, you’re scaring me.” Sam’s eyes were wide and he had turned on another lamp. 

“I’m really messed up, Sammy.” Dean wiped at his thankfully dry eyes and shook his head. “I’m messed up and I did some really dumb shit, and I’m going to fix it, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” 

“You’re not alone,” Cas murmured and squeezed his hand, and Dean smiled at him briefly. 

“Okay,” Sam said. “Can you tell me what happened? I can’t promise that I can help, but I can try?” 

“I don’t think I can really tell you what this is about yet,” Dean said. “Some stuff happened because of it, like I lost my job, but Cas is helping me deal with it.”

Sam nodded. “Do you need money? I can send you some. I’ve been saving the pocket money you’ve been sending me for emergencies, and I can help out if that’s an issue?”

“No,” Dean said. “At least, not directly. But, can we call more often? Or text? I know you’re busy and that’s why we didn’t really do that, but maybe you can find some time every couple days?”

“I thought we didn’t text because _you_ were busy,” Sam said. “And I didn’t think you’d want me to call you. Since Dad died, you seemed really closed off and I wasn’t sure if I was annoying you.”

Dean really fought back the tears this time. “Fuck,” he mumbled. All this time he and Sam didn’t communicate because they just assumed the other didn’t want to. If that wasn’t a perfect Winchester family-issue. 

“I do want to. I really, really want to. I miss you,” Dean said and now Sam’s eyes looked awfully shiny. 

“I miss you too, Dean. What are you gonna do now? Are you staying with Cas?”

“Yeah. He offered and my dumb ass said no and we kinda fought, but it makes sense. And then,” Dean paused and looked to Cas briefly for support, “then I’m going to therapy.”

Sam’s eyes widened comically and he started grinning. “That’s awesome, Dean! That’s so awesome. I’m so proud of you.” 

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his enthusiasm. “Couldn’t someone tell me that I so obviously need fucking therapy,” he said. Both Cas and Sam snorted and Dean raised an offended eyebrow.

“I thought you’d yell at me before you set foot in a therapist’s office,” Sam said. 

“And you _did_ actually yell at me,” Cas added. 

Dean looked down, then at Cas. “I’m sorry,” he said, and Cas smiled. 

“I know. I love you.”

“I know,” Dean said cheekily and Cas grinned and kissed him.

“Awwww, you guys,” Sam cooed and Cas laughed while Dean blushed furiously. 

“Anyway,” Dean said. “I don’t know if I can come out for Christmas, but I will definitely come visit in the spring. I want to figure my shit out first here and—hold on, why weren’t you surprised when I said Cas is my boyfriend?”

Sam did a bitch-face. “You’re a lot less sneaky than you think, Dean.” 

Dean just gave him a sheepish look. “I guess. You gotta tell me about that girl of yours ASAP, by the way. Gotta make sure she’s totally out of your league.” 

Cas was vibrating with silent laughter next to him, and Dean shoved him. “Stop it,” he said and Cas just got up and walked to the bathroom, shaking his head and snorting every few seconds. 

“Her name’s Eileen, and she’s awesome. She’s deaf, and I’m learning sign language. It’s been really amazing with her.” Sam went a little pink, and cleared his throat. “So, you want me to come over for Christmas?” He had his phone in his hand and was tapping away at it. 

“If you want to?” Dean asked. “I want you to meet Cas, too.”

Sam nodded. “You’re serious about him?”

“As a heart attack,” Dean said. 

“You know, I heard those actually aren’t that serious nowadays, with the proper—” 

“Oh my god Sam, no,” Dean interrupted him, and they both grinned. “I’m actually gonna pass out in a minute, but let’s talk about Christmas tomorrow maybe?” Dean suppressed a yawn.

“Sure,” Sam said and put his phone away. “I’ll look into flights too. Good night, Dean.” 

“Night, Sammy.” 

Dean hung up, closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand. Cas came out of the bathroom fully naked a moment later, and crawled into bed next to him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean said and Cas pressed kisses to his throat. 

“Sleep well,” he said and was snoring softly into Dean’s ear a minute later. 

*

When Dean got up the next morning, the bed was empty and he felt awful. He had a headache so strong he thought his brain was falling apart, and he quickly grabbed a pain pill from Cas’s bedroom stash. He got dressed and clomped down the stairs where he found Cas sitting in the living room, his laptop on his lap and Hannah lounging next to him. 

“Hey,” Dean said and Cas looked up and gave him the biggest smile. “Uh...”

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas got up and walked over to him, hugged him tightly then kissed him while cupping his face. 

“Hi,” Dean mumbled against Cas’s lips, and promptly received another kiss. “Not that I’m complaining, but why so chipper?”

Cas just smiled at him before grabbing his hand and leading him to the couch. They both sat down and Cas showed Dean the open page on his laptop. 

‘Rose Garden’ the site said, a ‘café and bistro with breakfast, lunch and dinner, served fresh with organic food and flowers of your choice’. The photos looked beautiful, but Dean didn’t really get Cas’s point. His face must’ve shown that, because Cas scrolled down to the navigation part that held the address. It was about an hour’s drive away, three towns over. 

“I thought this looked lovely,” Cas said carefully. Dean shook his head slightly, as to indicate that he had no idea what Cas was talking about. 

“I thought we could go there, for breakfast.” Cas set the laptop on the coffee table and lifted Hannah into his lap, who protested a little but gave into the head scritches. 

“Go there? Like—” 

“Like physically going there, yes. Yesterday you took a huge step towards getting better, and I want to do something too. I want to show you that I’m not just preaching to you about getting better without making a move of my own.”

Dean felt sad at the thought of Cas forcing himself. “Cas, you don’t have to..if you’re not ready—”

“I am. I’m pretty sure, at least. And that’s as good as it’s going to get. I want to do this with you,” Cas said and Dean leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. 

“Okay,” Dean said and kissed Cas’s shy smile right off his face. “Let’s shower first.” 

*

The shower put them behind their timeplan by about forty-five minutes, but neither of them thought to complain. They got dressed with a lot of kisses in between, and ordered a taxi to go to Dean’s place and pick up the Impala. 

The drive to the cafe took them a bit less time than anticipated; there wasn’t a lot of traffic. Dean held Cas’s hand as much as he could while driving, and they talked about anything and everything. Cas seemed anxious, his concentration shifted from the conversation often and he fiddled with either his clothes or something in Dean’s car. 

When they arrived, they took their time getting out of the car. Cas seemed determined, so Dean decided against asking if he was okay to not run the risk of making him overthink anything. Dean took his hand and led them into the building. 

A sign invited them to seat themselves, and they picked a small round table at the back, right in front of floor to ceiling windows. They sat down and Cas looked outside in awe; a beautiful garden visible to them. Pots with flowers, evergreen bushes and roses were everywhere. Dean ordered them coffee, trying to ignore their selection of fall themed cocktails, while Cas was distracted, and started looking through the menu. A waitress brought them their drinks a moment later. She was kind and smiled at both of them, didn’t even look twice at Cas’s face. Cas seemed thankful for it. 

Cas ordered waffles with fresh fruit and chocolate sauce, whereas Dean opted for savory pancakes with bacon and hashbrowns on the side. Dean inspected the menu for possible dessert options, finding their selection of ice cream flavors almost intimidating.

“Dean,” Cas said quietly.

Dean looked up, took one look at Cas’s set jaw and too bright eyes and immediately put the menu back down, stood up and kneeled in front of Cas’s chair. 

“You’re okay,” Dean said and held Cas’s hands. “We’re safe here. You’re okay.”

Cas nodded and squeezed Dean’s hands tightly. He looked like he wanted to run, and Dean considered their options. The door to the garden was closed, though it was clearly used for guests as well. Small seating groups were outside, a bit hidden with the small trees and flowers in between. He flagged down their waitress.

“Everything okay?” the girl asked, looking at Cas briefly before settling her eyes on Dean, who noticed that her name tag showed the Mexican flag next to the American, and then under that sat a bright rainbow flag, even larger than the ones above it. Dean smiled slightly and chose the honesty route.

“I’m sorry, my boyfriend here is not feeling very well, and he’s just so in love with the garden you guys have. Would it be possible for us to eat outside? I think that might help.” 

The waitress smiled at them. “Our outside seating area generally opens after noon, but...” She looked at her wrist watch. “I guess I must’ve read the time wrong. The door isn’t locked, so just pick any seat you like and I’ll find you with your food.”

“Thank you,” Dean said and she nodded. 

“You’re very welcome.” She walked away to a new couple that had just come in, and Dean turned around. Cas wiped at his eyes and hid the napkin he had used to blow his nose. 

“You hear that, sweetheart? Let’s go outside.” 

Dean took both of their cups and carried them, while Cas opened the door for them. They walked around outside and Cas picked a small bench with many pillows on it behind a rose hedge, shielding them from the view from inside. He relaxed as soon as they sat down, and Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“There we go. We’re okay.” 

Cas nodded and leaned into his hug. 

About ten minutes later their waitress came to them, carrying their food and excusing herself before coming back with a small extra bowl of fruit salad. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said, and they both thanked her.

Their food was delicious, and Dean laughed when he took a bite from the fruit salad.

“Hey, Cas,” he said and showed him a spoon with different kinds of fruits on it. “Look, they’re all cut to be heart shaped!”

Cas peered at the spoon, then smiled. “That’s lovely.” 

Dean nodded and fed the fruit to him, before shoveling some more into his own mouth.

“Thank you,” Cas said, and Dean looked at him while chewing. “I’m sorry for being so anxious.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. Thank_ you_ for going on a breakfast date with me. This is awesome.” 

Cas gave him a shy smile, and Dean pecked him on the lips. 

When they got home hours later Cas seemed a bit tense but okay otherwise. They settled down to watch a few documentaries, then cooked dinner together. A shared bubble bath and lazy hand jobs later, they fell asleep curled into each other.

*

The next day was filled with phone calls and emails and more phone calls. Cas called Ben to get some information on clinics, therapists, detox processes while Dean and Sam wrote down the details for their Christmas visit. After many hours they had everything together; there was a rehab center about thirty minutes away that helped patients with drug addictions, including alcohol, to detox safely and under medical supervision. They offered an in-patient program as well as an extensive support system after the program ended. Ben said he’d help them with anything they needed, and also told Dean about the AA meetings that took place in one of the rooms of the VSI held. All in all, Dean felt slightly overwhelmed by the things that needed to be done, but grateful for the immense support his family and friends were showing him. 

It was about half past five in the afternoon, Dean and Cas were standing in the garden and picking up Hannah’s toys as well as putting away the picnic blanket they had been sitting on for about an hour. It was getting a bit colder now, fall rapidly approaching, and they were about to head inside when Dean turned around. 

It was just before dusk; the garden washed over with golden light dipping everything into a fairytale coloring. Cas was standing next to him and looking out over everything, watching a small bird jump around on the hedge before flying away. 

“We could move,” Dean said. Cas looked at him and tilted his head as Dean intertwined their hands. 

“When I’m done with rehab. Or, detox or whatever. We could move together.” 

Cas looked confused, but not apprehended. “Why would we?” 

“Not move into a different house,” Dean said and shook his head. “Move away together. Leave Kansas. We can live somewhere that’s more open, where we can go on dates and we don’t have to be afraid of anyone. We can move to California together, maybe not too far from Sam, and you can have your garden all year round.” 

Dean was vibrating with excitement, grinning at Cas who looked at him like he was surely losing his mind now. 

“We’ll take Hannah, and all your nice furniture if you want to, and we’ll buy a house with a big property so you can have an even bigger garden, and a bigger pond, and you can grow your own vegetables like in all those cookbooks you have.” Dean could practically see Cas picture it, he was smiling softly and Dean just didn’t stop talking.

“We can maybe even have chickens, and we can find someone to teach you how to have your own beehive. And we’ll have enough space for that gazebo you always talked about.”

Dean grabbed Cas’s face and kissed him deeply.

“I’ll build you one. I’ll build you the best goddamn gazebo you’ve ever seen, and I’ll marry you right under it.” 

Cas’s facial expression changed infinitesimally, before he was kissing Dean so hard they almost toppled over. 

“Okay,” Cas said and Dean smiled so big his cheeks hurt. “Okay. When you’re out of the hospital, when you’re healthier. We’ll move. In the spring?” 

Dean kissed Cas, holding onto him tightly. They kissed, again and again and again. Then,

Dean nodded. 

“In the spring.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! You made it! There will be a timestamp (or even mini sequel) for this story. If you're interested in that, subscribe to this story, or to me here on ao3 so you don't miss it!
> 
> [Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168545) you can find the beautiful art that destiel-love-forever created for my fic. We both agreed to link this at the end, since it containts spoilers for the fic. Go and give her some love! <3 
> 
> I would be super happy if you left me a comment with what you think, since this is my first bigger story. If not, no worries! I hope you enjoyed reading. If you want to chat, you can find me on tumblr [here](https://wearingmywings.tumblr.com) and on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/wearingmywings1). <3


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